Golden Sands
by FaylinnNorse
Summary: In Arabia, a deadly plague sweeps the land. The Forty Thieves search for a cure as they are hunted by the Royal Guard. Xavia was just a princess from a far away land, visiting a family friend, but will the wildness of the golden sand overwhelm her?
1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel/spin-off of The Dance of the Cursed. However, if you haven't read it, don't worry about it. The two stories will pretty much have nothing in common. There may be minor references to the first story, but nothing major. So please, read on! And don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable

* * *

Streaks of warmth flowed through the window. Xavia slowly turned her green eyes to the world outside. Her bed was positioned just right so that it was always the first thing she saw in the morning. It looked like a very odd angle for the bed, but she liked it that way. 

The day was beautiful: blue sky, green grass, and it looked warm, too. It would probably rain later; it always rained in the springtime, but for now it was gorgeous. The only downfall was that she would be spending it alone, as always. Her closest sister in age, Della, had been married in the winter, and Xavia had been alone most of her time since then. She didn't really have any friends; all the servants kept to their selves and left Xavia alone to do what she wanted. Usually she appreciated it, though at times it grew lonesome.

Xavia swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She walked over to her dresser and poured some of the water from the pitcher into the basin. She splashed some of the cool water onto her face and looked in the mirror. As she had grown older, her hair had taken on a reddish-golden shade. It hung in gentle curls down her waist. She considered tying it back with a ribbon but decided it against it. She was rather fond of her hair, and besides, Father hated it when she wore it so improperly. Xavia found it quite amusing to do anything that Father hated.

She walked over to her wardrobe and gazed at her dresses. Most of them were too small, but she hated being fitted for new ones. Eventually, she pulled out a light blue one that would have to do. Once she was dressed properly, she walked down the hall and went out the door to her courtyard. It was _hers_, meaning that all of the fountains and such had been put precisely where she wanted them, and it was in her wing of the palace. Hardly anyone ever went in _her_ wing besides herself and the servants. It was almost like having her own, smaller castle. Quite a change from just six or seven years ago when she shared a room with eleven other sisters.

Xavia walked around the various trees and fountains. She noticed that she had left her maps on the stone table. Lucky it didn't rain last night, or they would be ruined. She spent a lot of her time poring over old maps. It was what interested her. She wanted to see all those wonderful, exotic-sounding places that she could only imagine.

Her thoughts kept drifting back to those days all those years ago, when the rajah Afzal had sat with them in the grass and told them wild and strange stories. And he had said they would meet again, and that she would travel to his land, but he had never come back for her. Xavia sighed again. It was a foolish thing to hope for, anyways. He had his own life, probably his own family, and would not be interested in some princess he had known when she was only a child.

If Father would only allow her, she'd go away even without Afzal. She wasn't at all needed here. A girl wasn't even allowed to rule without a husband, and King Edward did not appear to be close to dying anyways. When the time did come, one of her sisters could come and rule, or perhaps even one of their children!

After a while in the sunny courtyard, Xavia decided to walk to town. She grinned; Father hated it when she did that. He had become a tad more lenient with his daughters after the incidence with the obstacle course, but he was still King Edward: very strict and perfectly proper. Xavia was neither.

She started off to town without telling anyone. No one would mind; the servants didn't care and King Edward wouldn't notice until much later. Then he might scold her a bit, and Xavia would just laugh at him, as she usually did.

It was a lovely day, even lovelier than it had seemed from the window. Bright, green grass covered most of the ground, now, and bright spots of flowers dotted the fields. She circled through the meadow and forest to make the walk a longer one, just to appreciate that it was no longer winter.

After a time she got to town. Xavia loved going to town, just to watch things. There were people mulling about everywhere, buying and selling and going about their business. There was something fascinating about everyday, common people. Xavia often wondered whether or not it was more satisfying to be common, to work for everything you had. She had never really done hard work.

Xavia wandered through the town. There weren't many vendors with people selling things yet, since spring had just begun. There were some cloth sellers with their dyes and people selling pots, nothing too exciting. Eventually she went into the book store. There had to be something interesting there.

She meandered through the aisles, not looking for anything in particular. She turned down the aisle, but her eyes were still wandering among the rows of books upon books. She ran into someone, and pulled backwards immediately. There was a young man standing in front of her. He had coal black hair that hung in curls at the back of his neck. His skin was dark, and he looked very foreign. But the most catching this was his eyes. They were bright blue, not matching the rest of his appearance, and they gazed far past her, like he didn't even notice her.

Xavia might have been frightened; he was quite strange looking, but then she noticed he was carrying a cane. He was just a blind man.

"Oh, Sir, I'm terribly sorry!" she apologized.

"It was my fault," he said with a thick, eastern accent.

"Oh, but I should have been watching where I was going," Xavia said.

He simply nodded slightly, preoccupied, almost as if he did not wish to acknowledge her. In a moment he slid past her.

Xavia found herself staring after him for some time. She found him rather intriguing; he looked rather like Afzal, besides the blue eyes. She finally turned back to the shelves of books. After a while she found a cover that caught her eye. It had wild stallions racing through bright, golden sands. She picked it up, and without hardly thinking about it, brought it to the counter.

In front of her in line was the man she had ran into. She glanced at his purchase. From what she could see, it looked like something about old maps and legends and such. Surprisingly, he seemed to have no problem buying it, considering his blindness. He just listened to the amount due, and took some coins from his pocket. She supposed he must be used to not seeing. Before too long he headed out the door with his cane.

Xavia bought her own book quickly, and she swiftly headed out the door. She didn't mean to stalk, but she wanted to see the man again. She looked both ways, but did not see him anywhere. She smoothed her hair and skirt and walked down the street with a much more dignified air. The man really wasn't important. He was just a man, after all, just another face in the crowd. She most certainly did not care about him.

Xavia glanced at the sky, thick, dark clouds were beginning to cover it. It could only mean one thing; more spring showers. She would have to go quickly if she wanted to get back to the palace before it started. She hurried back the way she had come, starting off across the fields. She would not make her circle so wide this time, though. It wasn't exactly that she minded the rain, she just didn't want Father to yell too much.

Before she was even half way home, the rain started pouring down. It came in big, fat drops that splattered her, soaking her clothes. In a matter of minutes, she was wet through and through. Her blue dress clung to her skin, and her hair hung wet and limp. Xavia looked up at the sky and smiled. For fear of her father, she didn't get caught in the rain often, but at least this time she could truly say that she didn't mean to.

She spun around in circles, then leaned back to catch a raindrop in her mouth. It was rather childish, but there was no one around and besides, children had much more fun than young ladies!

"Xavia."

She jumped and turned around quickly. To her surprise, the blind, foreign man was standing behind her. How in the world did he know her name?

"Xavia," he said again. His voice was deep and rough, almost raspy.

"Um...yes?" Xavia said awkwardly.

He walked closer to her. She wasn't quite sure what to do. She rather wished to back away, but he was blind and it might be rude. Looking at him, she realized that he was quite handsome, though it was a rather odd thing to be thinking.

The man leaned forward, and before Xavia knew what was happening, he was kissing her. A zap like lightning went through her. She was too shocked to pull away, and for the moment she simply let him kiss her. When she finally felt that she had regained her senses, she quickly backed up.

"What—what are you doing?" she asked, feeling entirely bewildered. A foreign man, whom she had never seen before in her life, suddenly knew her name and was kissing her on the lips! There was something a big strange about it.

She looked into his eyes. They were so blue, so intense. It was so odd, he was blind, that was obvious, he couldn't even truly be looking at her, yet she had trouble meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. He sighed. "I must leave now." He slowly started to walk past her, tapping his cane along the ground.

Xavia turned and watched him, feeling probably more confused than she ever had in her life. She watched the man until he was out of sight. "Sorry for what?" she called after a moment. But either he was too far away, or just didn't want to respond. It suddenly occurred to her that when he kissed her it didn't seem like he was blind. But his eyes, they—they certainly looked blind. He never seemed to be looking straight at something, but rather through it and far, far away. In a few minutes, Xavia realized that it was still raining, and she wasn't getting any dryer. She ran back to the palace, hoping that King Edward would not be too angry with her. It truly wasn't her fault, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Tahir stared upwards, where he knew the ceiling was, though he couldn't see it. He rather wished that he could, just so he would stop seeing _her_. Think, the entire world out there, and all he ever saw was a girl he knew almost nothing about! Well, perhaps not _all he ever saw._ There were other things sometimes, but they were just flashes of images, or colors, that meant mostly nothing to him. And occasionally there were dreams which seemed to be clearer than anything else, at least anything besides _her. _

But that was what being one of the destined ones meant, having dreams and seeing things and mostly just being confused. All Tahir really wanted was to save his country from the plague. He leaned back in his bunk and tried to imagine it the way he'd known it since childhood. Not the sights, he'd never really _seen_ Arabia, but the smells and the sounds and the way it felt. In the marketplace, everyone shouting out for their fruits and fish and bright colored cloth. And the way it always smelled like spices and the sun was always there to bring warmth. The people, they were good people, and they did not deserve this death that had swept through the land and stayed for generations.

The Death Plague, as it was called, caused painful black sores on one's skin, then one became weak and just slowly started to die. The doctors could not explain it, and no one had yet found a cure for it. It was what had caused Tahir's blindness, his mother had been infected before he was even born. She died soon after his birth. His father, too, had died from the plague. It was why the 40 Thieves had to succeed in their mission; it was the only way to save Arabia.

Of course, the girl wasn't helping. Tahir could not understand why he saw her, but he did, and had for many years. Lately, it seemed she was always in his mind, and it was quite distracting. That was why he had set out to find her, to try to understand. To understand why he loved her. It seemed that she was some princess from the west. He had regretted kissing her nearly the moment he had done it. She didn't know him; it wasn't his right. He only hoped that he hadn't effected her the way it felt like he might have. He wanted her to have a good life, even if she could never know him. And being one of the destined...well, it didn't always seem like a good thing.

* * *

Xavia gazed at her sketch of the blind man, willing herself to understand him. She had drawn him quite accurately really. Dripping black hair, wild, yet blind eyes. She only wished she knew who he was. If she saw him again...first she'd slap him, then she'd be nicer and ask who he was. Men simply were not allowed to come up and kiss her with no explanation, but she felt like he had some...deeper purpose. Deeper purpose in kissing her, it sounded insane. And it probably was. She'd most likely read a few too many ancient legends lately. 

Xavia sighed and stood up from the stone table and chair. She would find something else to do with her day, something besides staring intently at her own drawings, something even different than poring over her maps. Perhaps she would go run through the obstacle course that had never been moved. Yes, that was what she would do. She was forever glad that they had never taken it away, it had been so fun after Ben and Drew and Travis had showed her the exact right way to get through it. She would usually run through it the correct way, then explore all the other turns and traps of it. She stood up to go.

"Xavia!"

She spun around and gaped upon seeing who was there. It was Afzal, he was standing by the nearest tree to her table! He was wearing a bright orange turban wrapped around his head that went well with his yellow robe. The old man always wore such bright colors.

"Afzal, what in the world are you doing here?!" she exclaimed, as she ran to him. She threw her arms around him, then stepped back grinning widely.

Afzal laughed. "Well, I told you I would come back someday, didn't I? And so I have! Or didn't you believe me?"

"Well, I did wonder _when_ you would come," Xavia admitted sheepishly.

Afzal laughed again, deep and full. "Well, look at you!" he said. "You've certainly grown while I was away. I left you a child, and now you're a beautiful young lady!"

"She certainly is lovely."

Xavia then noticed that King Edward was standing back a ways. She nodded to him, "Hello, Father."

"Hello, Xavia. Afzal here has come to visit us again."

"Yes, I have," Afzal agreed. "But not to find a curse this time," he said with a grin.

The king looked slightly embarrassed at this, and Xavia just laughed.

Afzal smiled and walked closer to the stone table Xavia had been sitting at. "What's this?" he asked, examining her sketch of the blind man.

Xavia rushed over and quickly flipped it over. "It's nothing, just a silly drawing."

Afzal raised an eyebrow at her and picked up the sketch, to further scrutinize it. He never was one for secrets, it seemed. "Hmm," he murmured after a moment, setting the picture back on the table. "A very good sketch, Xavia, you have talent," he said, though Xavia thought that he looked at her a bit oddly after that.

"Thank you," Xavia replied promptly.

"Well, what are we all standing around here for?" Afzal exclaimed. "Let us go and talk!"

"Of course," the king said. "Follow me."

They walked out of the courtyard and out of Xavia's wing to the main part of the palace. King Edward led them to the drawing room.

"Here, sit down, please. I'll go inquire about refreshments to the servants, then I'll join you."

Afzal nodded, and him and Xavia both moved into the room. Xavia sat on the settee, and Afzal on one of the huge, cushioned chairs.

Xavia looked about the dark blue room. She didn't come in here often, and she didn't really like it. It seemed so enclosed, hardly letting in any light. Compared to sitting in her courtyard, or running about in the forests, it seemed very gloomy indeed.

"Did you truly come just to visit us?" Xavia asked, after a moment.

Afzal looked at her. "Didn't I say that we would both travel to my country, Xavia?"

Xavia smiled slightly. "Yes, but do you think Father will allow it? He's very strict, and he doesn't even like it when I go to town. I—"

King Edward entered the room, and Xavia broke off. The king did not seem to notice that she had been saying anything.

"Afzal, my old friend, how have you been?" he asked.

Afzal smiled. "I've been quite well, I assure you."

"When I heard of how bad the plague had gotten, I—"

"Plague?" Xavia cut in. "What plague?"

"There has been a plague in my country for many generations, Xavia. It takes over the body, weakens it so one can hardly move, and then...it kills you. In the past few years it has gotten much worse. Nearly half the country has been taken by it, maybe more. None of our doctors can find a cure for it."

"So there's nothing that can be done?" Xavia questioned.

"He just said—" the king started.

"There's nothing the doctors can do," Afzal said, but there was a gleam in his eyes that Xavia could understand. There was nothing the doctors could do, but there _was_ something that could be done about it. There had to be.

Xavia nodded, with a slight smile. She was starting to feel excited. They were going to find the cure for the plague, she was sure of it! That's why he wanted to take her to Arabia! However, the chances of the king allowing it were...slim to say the most.

"It's really a shame," King Edward was saying. "Is much of your city state sick?"

Xavia looked at Afzal, suddenly remembering that he was one of the rajahs that ruled under the sultan. They each had their own city states that they were in charge of. It was a very high ranking in Arabian society.

"Very much, I'm afraid," Afzal replied. "But let us get off of this dark subject." He glanced at Xavia, and seemed to judge that this was as good a time as any to get permission from the king. "When I return to Arabia," he began, "I would like to take Xavia with me."

"What?!" the king barked with a frown.

"Only for a visit," Afzal said.

"It is much too dangerous, Afzal! You said yourself that half your country was infected with the plague, I will not allow my daughter to be subject to it!"

Afzal listened calmly to the king's protests. "My friend, your daughter was made for adventure. She can never have an adventure if she simply sits here your palace, like she's frozen in an icebox! She needs to travel, needs to see the world. It might not be safe, but it's _good._"

King Edward frowned. "I fail to see how a plague could be considered good. Besides, she doesn't need an adventure. She had enough of adventure in that foolish business with the curse."

"Father, I was a child then, I barely even remember it! You let Heidi sail around the world with Drew, why won't you let me go visit another country with a friend?"

"Heidi got married. She had someone to protect her, someone to defend her should it need be. But you, you're hardly more than a child yourself!"

"I'm seventeen, Father!"

"You have epilepsia. You never know what might happen," King Edward said firmly.

"But, Father, Dr. Andrew said I've probably grown out of it! I haven't fainted for years, and even when I was younger it was a rare occurrence!" Xavia argued.

"But it could return at any time," the king said stubbornly.

"Sir, I promise that I will take care of her," Afzal broke in.

"Well, I know that you would try, but...things happen."

"And do you think that if she does not go, she will be better off here? With her curiosity in its fullest, will she get in less trouble? Or will she even stay here with you?" Afzal remarked.

The king looked at him, seemingly moved more by this than anything else.

"I'm sure you've heard of girls that run away for adventure," Afzal said. "They usually have far more trouble than they would just traveling."

King Edward looked from him to Xavia, who met his eyes with her head held up in confidence, rebellion most likely. The king sighed. Afzal was right. She was wild, that girl, always had been. Making her stay would probably only bring more trouble. And besides, it was what she wanted. Try as he might, it seemed that he could never deny her anything that her heart was trly breaking to have. She was his daughter, after all. "You may go," the king said in a defeated tone.

"Thank you, Father!" Xavia happily exclaimed. She even got off of the settee and hugged him for it.

"Yes, well, I'll have you know that I'm not happy about it," the king said fussily, though he smiled. Perhaps letting her go would be worth it, just for her good favor.

* * *

Well, here is the second chapter! I hope you enjoyed! And a note about Arabia...it's not going to be 100 percent accurate, because its a made up version of Arabia. Arabia in a time that never existed in our world, so to speak. And about the names...they're Arabian. Pronounce them however you want :) I'm probably pronouncing Tahir something like Tah-HEER and Afzal like AF-zahl, but if you like it better another way, go for it! And remember to review! Oh, and in response to Verdant Wings, its not exactly based off of anything, though it will use elements from some Arabian tales and maybe some other fairytales.  



	3. Chapter 3

Tahir stepped off of the ramp and onto the dock. He smiled. He was home. He could hear all the hustle and bustle of Sibbayda, Sultan's City. The beating sun was enough to make one instantly start to sweat the moment after stepping into it, but he didn't mind. He was used to it. He just pulled his turban up over his head and kept walking. 

"Tahir!"

He turned towards the familiar voice. It was his friend, Nadim.

"So you have returned at last, my friend!"

"Yes, and it is good to be back," Tahir said, grinning.

"So did you find what you were looking for?" Nadim asked.

"I did," Tahir replied.

"And what was it?" Nadim asked, after Tahir offered no more information.

Tahir sighed. "It doesn't matter."

Nadim was silent for a moment. "Well, at least you've come back. And in good time, too. There are...things afoot, though I shan't speak of them here."

Tahir raised his brow slightly. "Alright, later then."

"But let us get out of this midday sun! Here, let me carry that," Nadim said, reaching for Tahir's bag. "You do pretty well for a blind man, but I'm sure it would be easier without having to carry everything."

Tahir smirked. "Yes, since it's so terribly heavy. Do you think that I've lost of my strength in my travels?"

Nadim laughed, and slapped Tahir on the back. "Of course not! This way," he said, pushing Tahir in the right direction.

"Did you get rid of my house when I was away?" Tahir asked.

"Your house? I wouldn't really call it a house, maybe a rundown shack, or falling down upper story of a rundown shack..."

"Alright, that's not the point. Do I still live there?"

Nadim laughed again. "Yes, you do. I had to take up residence in it myself to make sure none of the other 'street scrum,' as we've been dubbed by the Royal Guard, would take it. And I must say, its quite a nice place...for a rundown shack. Anyway, I hope you don't mind me staying there, I really like how much light gets through, compared to...well, you know."

"I see," Tahir replied. "You invaded my home while I was gone," then more seriously, "but you take the notes on everything that goes on. Wouldn't it be easier doing it from there?"

"Don't worry, I go first think in the morning and get started right away. I—"

"You go first thing in the morning?!"

"Yes, and no one sees! That's why it's called a _secret_ passageway, remember?"

"Fine," Tahir said.

"Good!" Nadim said happily. "Besides, I do think you owe me something for keeping your so called house for you for those two, three months. And look, here we are!"

Tahir put his hand up and forward until he could feel the rather unsturdy ladder. He started to climb and count the rungs. He knew precisely when to stop and where the hole in the wall would be. He grabbed the ledge and swung himself inside. Nadim followed.

"So is our pyramid still standing?" Tahir asked.

Nadim snorted. "Of course, it's nothing like that. Besides, there's no possible way to bring that thing down. Leave everything inside in ruins, perhaps, but not bring it down."

Tahir nodded. "Then what are these things that are afoot?"

"Faiza's sick."

"The plague?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's not all that surprising. Unfortunate, yes, and I truly hope she gets better, but—"

"Tahir, it's bad. And if she's dies...I'm not sure where Shahzad's loyalties will lie."

"You think he would betray us?"

"All I'm saying is that he can be rather...hot-headed and irrational at times. If he gets upset, he might start to blame us for it," Nadim said.

"I trust him."

"He's royalty, Tahir, you can't trust him. That was the mistake our grandfathers made! That's why the Search for the Sands of Time never got anywhere. Even if the sultan seems harmless, he's not necessarily the one controlling things."

"Shahzad is not the sultan," Tahir remarked.

"He's the son of the sultan, and I was speaking of Rashid anyways."

"Well, you should say so before changing the subject."

"Look, Tahir, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to tell you what's going on."

Tahir nodded. "I understand. You have nothing to be sorry for."

* * *

Xavia gazed out at the now barely visible spot of land. Then she turned and walked the length of the ship to the other side, and looked out at the seemingly endless sea. The fresh sea air blue in her face, and she could smell the salt. She loved it. She finally felt like she was doing something, something exciting, something meaningful.

"Are you enjoying the sea air?" Afzal asked, coming up beside her.

She nodded. "Very much so."

"Well, that's good, since we'll likely be sailing for the better part of a month."

Xavia smiled. "Tell me about Arabia, Afzal."

The old man smiled and shut his eyes. "Arabia...the sun blazes high in the sky, heating the entire land. The blue sky gleams so brightly one can hardly look at it. Villages dot the land in bright spots of color. And everywhere the sand paves everything in gold. Towards the ocean there are many cooler oasises that are full of life and green things that grow. The breeze smells of spice...and sand." He opened his eyes. "What more would you wish to know?"

Xavia shrugged. "Anything, really. It all sounds so...exotic."

"Well, you will be there to see for yourself soon enough."

Xavia smiled. "Yes...I will."

* * *

"...and that, Princess, is the end of the story," Afzal finished. "It's getting late now, we should be heading to our cabins."

Xavia nodded. "But it was such a wonderful story! Did it really happen?"

Afzal glanced. "Yes...and no. It depends on how you look at it. All stories are based on something real. Whether it be something that happened, or just dreams and wishes. The fabric of a story is always real, Xavia. All good stories are made up of something good, something grand, something that's worth everything. And that something is real."

Xavia nodded, and smiled dreamily.

"But come along now, to bed with you!" Afzal commanded.

They started walking. Xavia blinked—that is, she thought she blinked, but instead she saw a flash of the blind man's face, then a cloud of sand. She stopped walking, confused.

"Xavia?" Afzal asked. "Are you coming?"

"Yes..." Xavia said, starting to walk again. She must have just...subconsciously pictured him. She blinked again. Nothing. She followed Afzal. They walked down to the lower deck, where the cabins were. She left him at the door to hers, and went inside to go to sleep...

Two men were fighting with long, curved swords...a cave was filled with piles of treasures...people in a city moved around a pyramid...a black eyed man wanted revenge...he fought the blind man...the sand opened up and swallowed them...something—some sort of glass encasement started to crack, it shattered into a million pieces! Xavia woke up, gasping for breath.. They were going to die, she was sure of it 

She looked around. She was in her cabin, on the ship. Everything was fine. She wiped the sweat off of her brow and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It was just a dream. She settled back against her pillow shakily. She tried to sleep, and rest her mind, but her eyes would not stay closed. The dream seemed so real, though it was only flashes of images that made no sense to her.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Any constructive criticism, or anything else you'd like to say about the story, is very welcome! 


	4. Chapter 4

Xavia stood, just staring at the scene around her. The sky seemed brighter than it had ever been at home, and the sun was scorching. The trees...she'd never seen anything like them before! Their trunks were long and thin, then at the top there were fan-shaped leaves and some sort of brown fruit. A brown-skinned boy nearby was chopping them in halves with a long machete.

"Come, Xavia," Afzal called. He was standing by the wagon he'd secured for them and their luggage. The boy who was to drive it only looked to be 11 or 12! It was so very strange and different from her kingdom. She loved it already.

Xavia quickly ran over, and Afzal helped her up into the wagon. They sat on top of their luggage, but they had to hold on to the sides of the wagon to keep from tumbling over. It seemed that there were many ruts in the road.

"So where are we going?" Xavia asked.

"First, to the marketplace. I thought you would want to see it before anything else. Then, to the sultan's palace," Afzal answered.

"The sultan?!" Xavia exclaimed. It would be exciting to meet a real, live sultan, of course, but a bit intimidating, as well. He was the supreme ruler of so much land!

"Rashid is a good friend of mine, and he will wish to meet the western princess who has traveled so far to see his country," Afzal said with a smile.

Xavia nodded mutely.

"He has a son about your age," Afzal continued. "Shahzad. Perhaps you two will find something in common to spend your time talking of."

Xavia did not reply as they were coming up over a hill, where they could see almost the entire city. The sight was breathtaking. Most of the buildings were a bright, almost orange color of adobe. In the center of the city, there was an enormous pyramid. Its had many layers that were discernible and the triangle shape stood out starkly against the sky and the other square buildings. Beyond the pyramid was the sultan's palace, the only building not made from adobe bricks. Instead, it was made from marble and gold, and it shone like the sun itself.

"Afzal, it's so—beautiful," Xavia said.

He smiled. "Yes, yes, it is."

"But, why is there a pyramid?" Xavia asked. "I didn't think that the Arabians used them, only the Egyptians."

"Indeed, but the story goes that an Egyptian pharoah came to visit the sultan, and meanwhile grew very sick. He ordered a pyramid built for him and, well, he died," Afzal replied.

"The story?" Xavia asked.

Afzal gave her a slight smile. "Yes, the story."

Xavia gave him a look of scrutiny, then turned back to staring at the many buildings.

The wagon kept going down into the city. Afzal commanded the boy to stop when they got to the marketplace. He and Xavia jumped out and onto the street.

"Meet us right here in an hour," Afzal said.

The boy nodded and drove off down the street.

Afzal turned to Xavia. "Well, we have one hour. Lead the way."

Xavia grinned and started towards the many booths that people had set up to sell their wares. They were all calling out loudly, men and women alike.

"Fish! Fresh Fish!"

"Pots! Pots that won't crack here!"

"Pretty jewelry, the ladies will love them!"

Xavia smiled, letting her eyes wander over it all, fascinated. "What are those, Afzal?" she asked, pointing to a long, bright yellow fruit.

"It's called a banana," Afzal replied. "Would you like one?"

Xavia nodded and Afzal took one, handing the man that was selling them a small gold coin. He pulled the peel back from the fruit and handed it to Xavia.

Xavia bit into it. It was like no fruit she'd ever had before. It wasn't juicy, and it had a sort of soft, dry feel to it.

"Do you like it?" Afzal asked.

She nodded. "It's very different from the fruits at home, but still delicious!"

"Good," Afzal said.

They continued on a moment later. It seemed that someone was selling everything imaginable in the marketplace. There was colorful, beaded jewelry, bright colored dyes, delicious citrus fruits and spices. Afzal bought Xavia a necklace and a green abaya and headdress. Xavia said she might want to dress like the Arabians sometimes, so they wouldn't gawk at her so.

After a time, they decided that they had better back to where the boy would be waiting with the wagon. They meandered slowly through the streets, with Xavia still gaping at everything, her eyes wide.

On the side of the street, leaning against a building, Xavia spotted two children with their mother. They were crying. Then she noticed the black splotches covering their skin. As she got closer, she saw that they weren't just discolorations, their skin was, well, devouring itself. The spots were raw and ripped up-looking. One of the children, a little girl, took three steps, then fell over. She was too weak to stand. The mother just moaned. Both her legs seemed to be entirely covered in the black spots and her eyes were bloodshot.

"Water," the woman said softly. When her mouth opened, it looked as though her tongue had swollen up twice as large as it should be, and she was pouring down sweat.

The other child, a boy, just cried.

Xavia gasped at the sight of them, then looked at Afzal.

He looked sad. "This is why Arabia needs saving, Xavia."

Xavia swallowed. "Can't we do something for them?"

"It's the plague. There's nothing that can fight the plague," he replied.

"But—I thought that—"

"Not here," Afzal said, giving her a sidelong glance, and leading her towards the wagon. The boy was already there.

"Well, somebody's got to do something!" Xavia exclaimed. That said, she ran to the family, dug her hand into her pocket, and pulled out all of the coins she had with her. She handed them to the boy; he looked most able to handle them. "Go get some fruit and water for your mother and sister, alright?" she asked him.

The boy nodded solemnly and took off towards the booths.

"Thank...you," the mother said, just barely.

Xavia glanced at her. "I wish there was more I could do..."

"There's not," the woman assured her.

Xavia nodded, pursing her lips, then walked back to Afzal.

"That was a kind thing for you to do," Afzal said. "The thing a leader ought to do," he said, with a slight frown.

"I didn't realize it was so awful, Afzal," she said quietly. "When you described it..." she shuddered,"I didn't picture this."

Afzal looked at her kindly.

"I didn't notice anyone with it in the market," Xavia said. "I thought the disease was all over Arabia."

"It is, they just try to stay out of the market, so they don't contaminate anything. The Death Plague is highly contagious."

Xavia turned a shade paler.

"Don't worry about it though," Afzal reassured her. "I could've been infected many times, but I've not fallen ill yet."

Xavia nodded as they came up to the wagon. "So, the sultan's palace?"

Afzal smiled. "Aye, the sultan's palace."

* * *

Well, another chapter! I hope it wasn't boring or anything, since not a lot happened. But it's coming, I promise! And Tahir will be back next chapter of course...also, should I update more than once a week, or is this good for you all? I'm trying to find the perfect amount of time to wait between updates, but I really don't know. Anyway, reviews would be welcome, I love you all! 


	5. Chapter 5

Shahzad gazed at the girl sitting across from him. She was pretty, he supposed, in a strange sort of way. Her hair was certainly striking; it was as gold as the desert sands, though a shade redder. It certainly stood out compared to the black of all true Arabians. Her eyes, too, were different, green like the scarce vegetation. It was as if they were shouting out that they were from the west, where the land was overgrown with trees and plants. Her skin was one of the oddest things. It was so very, very pale and dotted all over with light brown spots. Very odd. All in all, the girl looked like some wild fantasy, perhaps something Tahir would dream up. 

Not as pretty as Faiza, though. He smiled just thinking of her. Her long, black hair, dark eyes, and face beautiful beyond comparison. His desert rose. Suddenly his brow furrowed, remembering her illness. She would get better, though. It wasn't the plague. It _couldn't_ be the plague, he thought, clenching his fists tightly. If she didn't get better—but she would! By the desert and everything it, she would, or else! Shahzad would have pounded his fist on the table, if only the others hadn't been there.

"Imagine, all the way from across the western sea!" his father was saying. "Tell me, what is it like?"

The girl, Xavia, laughed slightly. "It is...very different from here, Sire. There are trees and rivers and lakes everywhere. The sun isn't nearly as hot and there's no sand."

"How strange!" the sultan exclaimed. "Don't you think so, Shahzad?"

"Yes, Father, very strange indeed," Shahzad said quietly.

Xavia glanced at him. Her eyes seemed to run over his every feature, as if trying to guess at his character from studying his face. By looking at those strange eyes, it would almost seem that she was succeeding.

"And what is your opinion of the place, Afzal?" the sultan questioned the man. "Perhaps I shall travel there myself someday."

Afzal smiled. "Rashid, my friend, it was lovely. I was quite taken by the dew and the mist in the mornings, though I must say, there is no place like Arabia."

Rashid grunted his approval. "Of course not, there couldn't be. We have the best horses, the best fruit, the best everything!" He raised his glass up high. "To Arabia!"

Afzal lifted his as well and they clanged them together. "To Arabia."

The two friends took a drink, while Xavia and Shahzad looked on, smiling.

"Shahzad, my son," Rashid started, "perhaps you could take the princess here on a tour of the palace. That is, if she would like it."

"Oh, I would!" Xavia blurted, the moment after he spoke.

Rashid laughed loudly. "Well, then go!"

Shahzad nodded. "Of course, Father." He stood up.

Xavia was already on her feet.

"Come," Shahzad said, leading the way.

* * *

"And this is the palace courtyard," Shahzad said, rather dryly. 

Xavia's left Shahzad's side to walk all through it. There was a fountain in the middle, full of small, bright orange fish. A few palm trees grew along the edges of the place, close to the walls. Some strange, rainbow colored birds sat on top of the trees, chirping loudly.

Xavia studied it all carefully, then looked back at Shahzad, who stood at the entrance, just watching her. He was handsome; very dark and strong-looking, but he seemed so...cold and aloof. Probably just because she didn't know him.

"I love your country," Xavia said. "Everything here is so...colorful," she said, holding her arms out wide and taking everything in.

Shahzad looked mildly amused. "Do you have no colors in your country, Princess?"

"Please, my name is Xavia, not Princess. And yes, we have colors, but they aren't so bright, or at least, there aren't as many of them in a single place."

"Strange...Xavia. I suppose if I am to be on a first name basis with you, you might as well call me Shahzad."

"Shahzad," Xavia repeated. "I like it. All of the names here seem to just...flow off the tongue so well! Its beautiful, really. What does Shahzad mean?"

"I believe it means prince, or something of the like," Shahzad replied.

"Prince. Fitting, I suppose, being that you are one."

"What does Xavia mean?" Shahzad asked.

Xavia laughed. "You know, I have no idea, now that you mention it. Perhaps I'll find out someday."

Shahzad said nothing, just looked around. His thoughts started to wander back to Faiza. If it really was the plague...he imagined her, moaning in pain, not able to move, then slowly dying. No! They should have found the Sands of Time by now, this never should have happened! He'd slam his fist into—Shahzad noticed Xavia staring at him, her face gone white. His hand was against the stone wall in a fist. And it hurt. Bad.

"Did I just punch the wall?" he asked.

"Yes," Xavia answered softly.

He brought his hand to his side and unclenched his fingers. His hand was throbbing. It had been incredibly stupid of him, punching the wall, but it was almost as if he hadn't even realized that he was doing it. He had realized it, though, now that he thought about it, he just hadn't considered the consequences. He'd let his emotions get away from him.

"Perhaps we should go back," he said, looking at Xavia.

She didn't reply at first, just looked at him, her green eyes puzzled. "What were you thinking about?" she finally asked.

"Nothing," he said, turning away from her gaze.

"You had to be thinking about something; people don't just go around punching walls for no reason."

"Well, maybe I felt like it!" Shahzad roared at her.

She gazed at him oddly. Shahzad couldn't tell whether she was afraid, or just curious.

"I'm sorry," Shahzad apologized after a moment. "I—let's just go back."

Xavia nodded slowly, and Shahzad led the way.

* * *

Xavia threw herself onto the silky bed. It felt smooth and cool, and the gauzy red curtains swayed in the air around her. She was exhausted, excited, and rather puzzled about Shahzad. All in all, she just wanted to sleep. 

She closed her eyes, and almost immediately an image of the blind man popped into her head. She groaned and rolled over on her stomach. It had been at least a month since she'd seen him, why couldn't she just forget about him? Probably because he'd kissed her. But it didn't matter now, it was in the past! She forced all thoughts of him out of her head, and closed her eyes tightly.

A girl lay weak, dying...Shahzad pounded his fist into the wall again...a bearded man laughed and handed a ring to someone next to him...horses pounded across the desert, they left a trail that went for miles...the blind man was fighting Shahzad, she had to stop them!

Xavia jumped and awoke, only to find that a hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream, but to no avail. A face came into view—it was Shahzad, and he wasn't letting her go.

"You woke up half the palace with your screams," he said angrily. "Lucky I got to you first, or you might have said something you shouldn't have...now tell me what you know!" he exclaimed, releasing her.

Xavia tore herself away from him and sat up against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about!" she shouted.

"Shhh!" Shahzad commanded. "You spoke the name Tahir. How do you know him?"

Xavia shook her head. She certainly didn't remember saying Tahir; and she'd never even heard of the man!

"How do you know him?" Shahzad repeated.

"I don't!" Xavia said in a loud whisper. "And it is certainly not very proper, nor kind of you to come into my bedchamber in the middle of the night and start interrogating me!"

Shahzad was just about to reply, but at that moment, half a dozen servants entered the room, along with Afzal and Rashid.

"Shahzad, what is the meaning of this?!" Rashid asked.

Shahzad turned around slowly to face the sultan. "It's alright, Father, Princess Xavia was just having a...nightmare. I wanted to be sure everything was alright."

"And is it?" the sultan asked, looking at Xavia.

Shahzad caught her eye.

"Everything is fine," Xavia said, nodding.

Rashid nodded. "Well, you certainly gave us a fright there for a moment. You scream quite loudly, Madam. Now I suggest we all go back to sleep."

The servants all hurried out, along with the sultan. Afzal stayed until Shahzad was gone, then regarded Xavia curiously.

"Was it really a nightmare?" he asked.

Xavia pursed her lips. "I don't know. I suppose not, it was just...a strange dream."

Afzal nodded slowly and stepped out of the room. "Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, Afzal."

Xavia sunk down into her bed, though she hardly felt she could go back to sleep at the moment. She did not understand the dreams, nor Shahzad's actions. He had seemed very angry, though. Dangerous almost. She would have to keep an eye out for him in the future.

* * *

Tahir heard the swing of a saber to his left. He took a step over and blocked. Afterward, he lunged quickly, so that Nadim wouldn't have much time to react. Their sabers clanged again. 

"I say, Tahir, you are amazingly good at this! Either that, or I'm amazingly bad. I'm practically losing to a blind man!" Nadim exclaimed.

Tahir laughed slightly as he blocked another attack. "I've had much time to practice using my ears instead of my eyes, Nadim. You get used to it."

"Guess so."

"Tahir," a voice came from farther away, to their right. It was Jalal, another of the 40 Thieves.

"Jalal, what news from the city?" Tahir asked, stepping far to the right. Nadim had just lunged, and he couldn't stop in time. He fell onto his face in the sand.

"That wasn't nice, Tahir!" Nadim grumbled.

Tahir laughed. "You could have _seen_ me move. _I'm_ the blind one, after all." He turned in the direction of Jalal. "So?"

"Didn't you hear this morning?" Jalal asked.

"Hear what? We came out here to spar before dawn."

"Well, then you'll find this interesting," Jalal started. "Apparently a princess from far to the west has come to Arabia."

Tahir's brow furrowed. "A princess from the west...well, so?"

"Is she pretty?" Nadim asked, brushing the sand off of his clothes.

"I heard that she is, but I haven't seen her myself. But there's more to it than that. She's...troubled by strange dreams, they say."

"What kind of dreams?" Nadim asked.

"Well, no one really knows, except that they make her scream out in the middle of the night. But the really odd thing is, one of the servants said that they thought she said Tahir during one of her dreams, though they couldn't make out for certain."

"Tahir!" Nadim exclaimed. "Well, why should say that? You don't know any western princesses, do you, Tahir? Or did you happen upon the lady in your travels?" Nadim asked jokingly.

Tahir listened to this, feeling sickened. "Did you happen to hear what she looks like?" Tahir asked.

"Yes, I did," Jalal said. "Apparently it was quite something to see. Her hair was bright as gold, but redder and her eyes as green as palms. Sounds rather odd to me."

Tahir dropped his saber to the ground and sat next to it.

"Tahir?" Nadim questioned.

Tahir didn't reply. So he'd done it then. He'd made her one of the destined, and in doing so, likely bound her fate to his own. And the poor girl had absolutely no idea what was going on. He sighed loudly. He had to get to her, before someone else did.

* * *

Well, hope you liked it! Again, reviews are appreciated, especially if they are full of constructive criticism. Umm...I think that's all I have to say about the chapter. So, review! 


	6. Chapter 6

Nadim and Jalal hurried to keep up with Tahir. He was blind, but he knew the city like the back of his hand. Occasionally he would stop and listen before continuing on, giving them just enough time to catch up with him. 

"Tahir, where are we going?!" Nadim asked.

"I'm going to find the princess!" Tahir replied.

"You cannot simply walk into the palace, Man!" Nadim argued.

Tahir stopped for a moment, and the two men came up beside him.

"Why do you want to find her anyway?" Jalal asked.

"Because, she—I—" Tahir stammered a bit and finally said, "I want to see what these dreams of hers are about—and how she knows my name."

"That doesn't mean you have to go and talk to her yourself!" Jalal said. "You'll scare her out of her wits, that is if you don't get killed walking to the palace first."

Tahir considered this. He knew they were right. Even if he did avoid getting killed, Xavia would likely be scared of him, especially considering the situation in which they had first met. "Is the meeting tonight?" he asked, turning his head towards Nadim's direction.

"Yes."

"And Shahzad will be there?"

"He hasn't informed us otherwise," Nadim replied.

Tahir nodded. "Very well then. Shahzad will tell us of the princess." He was silent for a moment, then continued on. "Jalal, go and ready the pyramid for the meeting—and check on Faiza."

Jalal nodded. "Of course," he said, and immediately turned and hastened down one of the many side streets.

"Do you wish me to record something of this matter with the princess?" Nadim asked.

"No, it can wait until we know more," Tahir replied.

They walked on in silence for a time.

"Tahir—who is she? It's obvious she's more than just a name to you," Nadim spoke.

Tahir sighed. "She...I love her. She never would have known, but now..."

"What?! But you don't know her...or _did_ you actually happen upon her in your travels?"

Tahir laughed slightly. "My whole point in traveling was because of her, Nadim. Remember when I told you about my dreams?"

"You've told me of them many times."

"I mean the first time, when I told you I was one of the destined."

"Yes, yes," Nadim said. "I remember. The dreams seem rather ridiculous though, have they ever been the least bit helpful?"

Tahir smiled slightly. "I also told you about the girl who was—is—ever present in those dreams. And...well, Princess Xavia is that girl. I searched for her, because she was driving me mad, I could see her always in my mind."

"And you found her," Nadim finished for him. "What next?"

"I...kissed her," Tahir admitted. "And I think by kissing her, I unintentionally turned her into one of the destined."

"I see," Nadim said, raising his eyebrows. "Well, I assumed her to be one of the destined, due to those dreams...wait, you kissed her! And now she miraculously knows your name! Do you think you fate bound her to yourself, as well?!"

"It's likely," Tahir said. "Why else would she wind up in Arabia?"

Nadim sighed. "Well, I can see why you want to get to her then. How much do you think she knows?"

"She knows nothing, but who knows what she'll dream? And at the palace, if the wrong people hear about it..."

"Let's hope Shahzad can keep her quiet," Nadim said.

"Let's hope indeed," Tahir replied.

* * *

Xavia took another sip of her tea and grabbed another one of the strange fruits. The delicious food made her want to just eat all morning—that, and she was avoiding talking to Shahzad. He'd been looking at her strangely ever since they'd all gotten up. It was rather disconcerting. 

"How long will you stay here in my city?" Rashid was asking Afzal.

"Not too long. Perhaps a week."

"Oh, nonsense, you must stay at least two!"

Afzal smiled. "Perhaps."

"I insist," Rashid went on. "Now, Shahzad, perhaps today you could take the princess horseback riding, by the sea, or into the city to see the pyramid."

Xavia opened her mouth, then shut it. It sounded lovely, except that it would be with Shahzad.

"Very well, Father," Shahzad said, looking at Xavia.

Xavia smiled for the sake of the sultan. "It will be lovely. Perhaps the two of you would like to come, as well?"

"Sadly, I cannot," Rashid replied. "I have duties to attend to, but if you would wish to, Afzal—"

"No, no, they can go alone. We have some catching up to do, Old friend."

"Well, then when shall we leave?" Shahzad asked, looking at Xavia

Xavia shrugged. "Whenever you want is fine with me."

"After this, then. I have a—meeting tonight; I don't want to get back too late."

"Your highness!" a man exclaimed rushing into the room, followed closely by another. "The 40 Thieves have struck again!"

Rashid raised his eyebrows. "What did they take? Did you catch them?"

"They took ancient documents from out of the library. Captain Mahmud was there," the man said, letting the second man step ahead.

As the first man stepped back, Xavia got a closer look at him. She gasped. He had a thick, dark beard. She recognized him from her dream.

Shahzad frowned at her. Luckily no one else seemed to notice.

"I almost caught them, Your Majesty, but they are very cunning and clever. I had one of them by the wrist; he bore the mark of the 40 Thieves, but they had a bag of sand with them, and the others flung it in my face. Then they climbed out the window on a ladder they'd brought. By the time I'd regained my senses, they were gone," the second man explained.

Rashid frowned, then sighed. "Well, search for them. Better luck next time, I hope."

The two men bowed and started to walk away.

"Wait, before you go," Rashid stopped them, "this is the princess, Xavia. Xavia this is Khalid, the grand vizier," he said, gesturing to the bearded man, "and Captain Mahmud, of the Royal Guard."

They both bowed rather stiffly and regarded her with curious eyes. Then they left.

"The 40 Thieves, who are they?" Xavia asked once they had gone.

Rashid sighed. "Only the most notorious thieves in the land. They've been around for who knows how long. They have a set group and there's always 40 of them. They are forever terrorizing my country. Oddly, though, they usually don't take much for jewels and riches, just old documents. I don't know what they want with them," he shrugged. "We really don't know much about them."

"And they are...marked?" Xavia asked.

"Oh, that. Well, they've been rather evasive lately, but we used to catch some of them now and then, and with the amount of crimes they'd done, they were always to be executed, rather than just cutting off a hand. However, it was very hard to tell who was one of the 40 Thieves, and who was just a regular thief, especially with them always escaping right before the execution. So we took to branding them with the number 40 on their forearm, before their execution. That way if they escaped and got caught again, we would know to keep them under high guard." Rashid looked up. "But this is no talk for a lady!" he said, and abruptly changed the subject.

Xavia looked at Shahzad. His arm was laying on the table, and where his sleeve stopped, there was the beginning of a reddish, white line on his skin.

He seemed to pay no attention her, but he slowly and nonchalantly moved his arm from the table to pull his sleeve down. He looked up and locked eyes with Xavia.

After a moment, she looked away, feeling rather alarmed. If Shahzad was...but he couldn't be, could he? She would get to the bottom of this today, when she rode with him.

* * *

Shahzad met Xavia at the door to her apartments. 

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Good. Follow me."

They walked through the grand-looking halls, filled with marble and gold, and all kinds of jewels. They said nothing, just walked, and looked. At the front of the castle, a servant was waiting with two horses saddled for them. The horses were huge and black, with coats that shone.

"I hope the horses aren't too big for you," Shahzad said.

"Oh, no, they're fine. They're such beautiful horses," Xavia said, stepping up to one of the horses, and running her hand over its shoulder.

"Yes, we're known for our horses." Shahzad stepped over to the other horse, and mounted it quickly, swinging his leg over its side. The servant handed him the reigns.

Xavia followed suit, and they started to ride.

Shahzad took her through the lesser known routes, past the harbor, until they got to the open shore. The sea loomed to their left, big and blue, and to their right the desert sands shown, golden and bright.

"It's very pretty," Xavia said.

Shahzad jumped slightly, as if he had been daydreaming. "What is?" he asked.

"The contrast, of the sea and the desert, like this."

"Oh. Yes, yes, it is," Shahzad said, glancing around, then straight ahead again. After a moment, he looked at his hands, frowning.

"You seem preoccupied," Xavia said.

Shahzad glanced at her. "A little," he admitted.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"Well, you must have a reason."

"I might have many reasons, but they are not so easily explained."

"We have lots of time," Xavia offered.

"Not everyone."

"What?"

Shahzad sighed. "Have you ever been in love, Xavia?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Well, then you couldn't understand. You don't know what it's like to have someone...beneath your station, beneath your values, beneath..._you_, but understands you so fully...and you think that you could save them from the poor life they've known, but truly _they _have save _you._ And all you do is watch them fall."

Xavia looked at him. "Who is she?" she asked, softly.

Shahzad smiled slightly. "It doesn't really matter."

"Maybe it does."

"Maybe not."

They were silent for a while, before Xavia asked, "Who is Tahir?"

"I could ask you the same question," Shahzad replied.

"But I wouldn't know the answer. I don't even remember saying his name."

"Well, you did."

"Who is he?" Xavia asked again.

"Someone," Shahzad said. "And that's all you need to know about it."

"Fine," Xavia said. "Do you like being a prince?"

Shahzad frowned. "It has its advantages," he said after a moment.

"But do you like it?" she pressed.

"Not always. But then again, maybe I do. I don't know. It's what I am."

"But is it what you have to be?" Xavia asked.

Shahzad regarded her curiously. "Yes," he finally replied. "I am the only son of the sultan. It is what I have to be. For my country."

Xavia nodded. "Rather different from my own life. I'm the twelfth daughter of the king of my land. I'm not needed there."

"Is that why you came here, then?" Shahzad asked. "To find what you do have to be?"

Xavia smiled. "I suppose so. Its a nice idea anyway, that somehow, somewhere, we're all are needed. All have things we have to do, have to be."

"Do you believe it?" Shahzad asked, looking at her sideways.

"I think I do," she replied.

Shahzad nodded and kept on riding.

"You have a mark on your arm," Xavia finally brought it up. She waited for his reply.

He just glanced at her, saying nothing.

"I don't know how to read your numbers here, though."

Shahzad looked at her.

"You're not denying it," Xavia said.

"So maybe I have a mark on my arm. What's it to you?" Shahzad finally spoke.

"Are you...one of them?"

"One of who?"

Xavia sighed. "The 40 Thieves."

"What would you do if I was?" Shahzad asked.

Xavia opened her mouth, then shut it. "I don't know."

"Well, if you really want to know what the mark would look like, I can show you," Shahzad said. Saying so, he pulled his horse to a stop and jumped off.

Xavia had to quickly pull backward on the reigns, to keep her horse from going on. She dismounted and stood next to it.

Shahzad bent upon the ground and drew in the sand. First, he drew something that looked like a backwards three, and next to it a dot.

"That is the number 40," he said. "Do you want to see if I have it on my arm? The price for aiding a criminal, and not turning them in, is to have one's tongue cut out, for not using it. And then, if I did have the mark, and you told someone, I could cut it off and no one would ever believe you. Or maybe, I never had the mark to begin with. Do you want to know?"

Xavia pursed her lips. "No," she finally said.

Shahzad nodded. "Some books are better left upon the shelf," he said, rather coldly. He looked into her green, confused eyes. "I assure you, Xavia, I have no criminal intent. I would not harm you."

She nodded. "I know."

* * *

This was meant to be longer, but it would have been a lot longer than my other chapters, so I cut it off here. Hopefully, I'll be able to write the other part and some more today and post it in a few days. (Wednesday--Friday) Reviews are nice, especially as some of this seemed a little choppy to me, and I could use some CC (constructive critism) 


	7. Chapter 7

"Maybe he won't come," Jalal said, drumming his fingers on the table, and staring at the brightly painted Egyptian glyphs on the walls, and the shadows from the dim, flickering lamps. 

"He'll come," Tahir said adamantly. A few more minutes passed by, and Tahir began to doubt. He set his hand upon the long, wooden table. It was actually supposed to be an enormous sarcophagus, for the pharaoh Seti and all of his riches. Only the 40 Thieves knew the truth. All of them were sitting there—all except Shahzad and Faiza. Ironic, that the two lovers would be missing. Although, of course, that had nothing to do with it. Faiza was in a room down the hall, far too ill to join them, and Shahzad was—well, missing. Tahir was about to announce that they should begin without him, when he suddenly strode into the room.

"I'm here," Shahzad announced. "Sorry I'm late; I had a bit of trouble getting away."

Tahir smiled. "It's fine. Take a seat."

Shahzad hesitated. "Might I...see Faiza first?"

Jalal groaned. "No, we've waited long enough as it is!"

Shahzad glanced at him, his flashing angrily. "If you knew what it's been like for me—"

"Oh, yes, what it's been like for you, up in your fine palace with, with the rest of us running about the city as criminals, scrounging for food!" Jalal said.

"Well, maybe you deserve it!" Shahzad shouted back.

"Shahzad, Jalal, enough!" Tahir broke in. "Sit down, Shahzad, you will see Faiza afterwards. The meeting doesn't have to take long."

Shahzad reluctantly took a seat, between Nadim and Jalal, narrowing his eyes at Jalal defiantly.

Nadim looked at Tahir questioningly, with his quill in his hand.

"Start the minutes now, Nadim," Tahir said.

The thieves glanced around at each other uncomfortably. It wasn't known that anything had ever been excluded from the minutes before, or that the Thieves had ever had such fights between each other. They'd always seemed very detailed in the minutes, though, of course, if such things _had_ been excluded, no one would ever know. Still, it just didn't seem right, but Tahir was their leader, after all.

Nadim added Shahzad to the list of all their names, then looked up, waiting for the meeting to begin.

Tahir spoke first. "Shahzad, I have heard rumors of this princess of the west, and of her dreams."

"Yes, she spoke your name! Do you know her?"

Tahir chose his words carefully. "She would have no cause to know my name, no."

Shahzad nodded. "She didn't seem to know who you were either. I can't figure it out, though, why would she cry out your name when she has never met you?"

_She _has_ met me,_ Tahir thought. Aloud he asked, "Did she say anything else?"

"Nothing coherent," Shahzad replied. "She seemed very upset by it, though," he said, frowning.

"Did you notice anything else...odd about her?" Tahir asked

Shahzad laughed. "Odd? Everything about her is odd. Her hair, her eyes, her skin, the amount of questions she asks, her love for Arabia, though it's not even her homeland, the way she seems to understand everything..."

Tahir felt a slight pang of jealousy. Shahzad likely knew Xavia better than he did.

After a moment, Shahzad shrugged. "She's different, but she's...interesting. Not really bad."

"Well, I suggest we keep an eye on her, and these dreams of hers," one of the older Thieves said, from down the table.

Tahir nodded. "Exactly as I was about to say. She could be useful."

Shahzad sighed. "If you ask me, we pay far too much attention to dreams and _fate_, as you call it. We need to be out doing things! Are we any closer to finding the Sands than we were a year ago, or even two?"

"The dreams can show us the way to the Sands of Time," said the other Thief who had just spoken.

"Have they helped before? Time is running out, for Arabia and—for Faiza," Shahzad choked.

The room grew silent.

"We _are_ searching, Shahzad," Tahir said quietly. "It's just not that easy."

Shahzad didn't reply.

"Has anyone found anything since the last meeting?" Tahir continued.

"A couple of us took a tablet from the palace library. The vizier and the advisers were having it studied; it seemed very important to them. We gave it to Nadim to look at," one of the Thieves said.

Tahir turned to his right. "Nadim?"

"I looked at it, and it seemed to verify what we had already assumed. When the Sands of Time are spilled, Arabia will be healed. But they can also be used for power, great power. If anyone had control of them, their power would be...tremendous."

"Which is why Khalid and the others want it," Tahir said.

"Exactly."

"Does it say anything about what it looks like?" Jalal asked.

"Not really, but it seems to be stored in some sort of...encasement," Nadim offered.

"How helpful," Jalal remarked dryly.

"There was something else, too. It spoke of a circle, and there was something inside of it. It seems that the object has some sort of influence over the Sands of Time. I haven't been able to decipher much yet. I'll look at it more later."

"A circle?" Tahir questioned.

"I don't know, I just started to decipher that part. I'll hopefully be able to form a clearer picture soon.

Tahir nodded. "Well, if no one else has anything to add, I suggest we adjourn for the night. We'll meet again in a fortnight."

No one else said anything, and the Thieves began to slowly disperse.

* * *

As soon as he was certain the meeting was finished, Shahzad made a dash out of the meeting room and down the hall. He stopped in front of the room where Faiza was, and quietly stepped inside. Faiza lay on a stack of pillows in the center of the room, curled in a tattered-looking blanket, and her dark hair fell over her face. 

Shahzad stepped forward as softly as he could, until he got to her. He sat down beside her and smoothed her hair back from her face. The beginnings of the black sores were starting to cover her face, and her hands were already dotted with them.

Faiza opened her eyes slowly. "Shahzad," she spoke his name with a faint smile.

Shahzad smiled. "Faiza, how are you?"

She sighed shakily. "Not very good, I'm afraid. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Are you alright here?" Shahzad asked, glancing around at the dimly lit chamber. "It's awfully dark and—"

"It's fine, Shahzad. I'm tired of being treated like such an infirm. I just...hate being like this," she said, as a tear slipped down her cheek.

Shahzad grabbed her hand. "Faiza, it's going to be ok," he said soothingly.

Faiza pursed her lips. "You shouldn't touch me. The plague is very contagious."

Shahzad laughed, though rather bitterly. "And you think that I care?" he asked, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it lightly.

She closed her eyes again, as two more tears fell from her eyes. "Shahzad, I'm going to die."

He gripped her hand tightly. "No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am! I'm not getting any better, and the plague doesn't just go away. It will only worsen."

"We'll find the Sands of Time, Faiza, you won't die!"

"And if you don't find it?" she asked softly, her dark eyes wide and solemn. When he didn't reply, she went on. "Shahzad, if I die...don't blame anyone. Please."

Shahzad frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just promise me," she pleaded. "Promise me you won't blame yourself, or Tahir, or any of the rest of them!"

"I promise," Shahzad said.

Faiza smiled slightly. "I love you, my prince," she said, pulling his hand closer, tucking it under her chin, and closing her eyes

Shahzad smiled and kissed her forehead. "And I love you, my princess."

Tahir entered the room behind them.

"I hope you haven't worn her out," he said with a slight smirk.

Faiza opened her eyes. "On the contrary he made me much better, Tahir."

Tahir smiled. "Well, good. Perhaps he should come see you more often then. We miss having you out there; you're one of the best we have."

"I miss it, too," Faiza said quietly.

"Are you tired?" Shahzad asked.

She nodded. "A little."

"Well, I'll see you again soon," he said, leaving her with one last kiss on the cheek. He walked down the hall with Tahir.

"I really do hope we find the Sands for her," Tahir said sincerely.

Shahzad nodded. "I know," he said, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "And I'm sorry about earlier with Jalal, I'm just so...afraid for her."

"I know," Tahir said.

"I don't know what I'll do if she—" he broke off.

"But we'll have found the Sands by then, remember? " Tahir said.

Shahzad grinned a bit nervously. "Yes, we will. At least I hope so."


	8. Chapter 8

The wind blew across the dunes of sand that stretched on for miles. Some of it was whisked away into the air, blown aways, then drifted lazily back down to the ground again, while other parts simply rippled across the ground. 

Xavia watched it with a sudden intense longing to be out there, with the sand and the wind, to know what it was like.

"The view is better from the other side of the palace. At least, in most people's opinions," Afzal said, stepping beside her.

Xavia glanced at him. "It is nice from over there, looking at the city, but this is just so...I don't even know how to describe it. It's like the feeling you get when you look out at the ocean that stretches on forever into the horizon. You feel so small...and yet still a part of this world."

Afzal regarded the gleaming, golden sand. "There is something awe-inspiring about it, isn't there?"

Xavia nodded. "Afzal...why did we come here?" she asked after a moment. "You didn't bring me here just to show me around. I mean, I love seeing everything, but...you never do things for simple reasons. There has to be something more."

Afzal smiled slightly. "Why do _you_ think I brought you here?" he asked.

"I think it has something to do with the plague," she said slowly, "but I don't know what."

"Well, only time will tell," Afzal replied.

Xavia eyed him exasperatedly. "Fine, then! But you're much too secretive for my liking."

Afzal laughed. "When the time is right, you'll understand. But until then..."

Xavia smiled, then sighed deeply. "I keep having strange dreams, as well. About pyramids and figures in the sand that I can't quite make out," she said, frowning. "I don't understand them; I never had dreams like this at home."

Afzal regarded her for a moment. "Perhaps it's something in the Arabian air," he said.

Xavia laughed slightly, and said nothing.

"We're going riding today," Afzal said. "Rashid, Shahzad, myself, and you, that is, if you want to come."

Xavia brightened. "Of course I do! Where are we going?"

"Out into the dunes," Afzal replied.

"The dunes?" Xavia said, her eyes shining. "Good, I haven't been there yet."

* * *

Xavia spurred her big, black horse onward. Making it up the dunes on horseback was much harder than it looked. The animal kept slipping in the loose sand, and they were walking straight into the wind. The sand kept blasting into her face, stinging badly. The wind seemed to be picking up, and the very air she breathed seemed sandy. Rashid seemed unfazed by this, riding fast at the head of the party. Shahzad and Afzal, next to him, seemed less confidant. 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she called out, holding her hand up to block the sand from her face.

"Of course it is, my dear!" Rashid called from a ways in front of her. "Where's your sense of adventure? Didn't you tell me that you liked getting caught in the rain, back in your country? This is just the same."

"Yes, well, the rain was not quite so painful," she replied.

"Father," Shahzad cut in, "we really should go back. We don't want to get caught out here; sandstorms can be dangerous."

"Nonsense! Besides, we shan't stay much longer. We'll just go a ways farther, up this dune, then stop to rest for a few minutes, then head back at our own, leisurely pace. We'll be perfectly fine," Rashid said.

Shahzad sighed.

"And what about you, Afzal?" Rashid asked, turning to his other side. "Have you turned against me as well and wish to go back to the palace?"

Afzal laughed. "Well, I'm not sure yet. I have no desire to be caught in a sandstorm, but then again I do not wish to be in disagreement with the sultan."

"Well, we're practically to the top anyhow," Rashid said.

The three men rode onward and up, until they reached a more solid part of the dune, then turned their horses backward to see where they had come from.

Xavia, a short distance behind them, spurred her horse onward, still trying to get up the dune. She glanced downward at the sand, and it seemed to blow across to reveal tracks—hoof prints—going out sideways from her, leading far out in the desert. She frowned, following them with her eyes. A short distance down the path, the sand was wisped away again to reveal some sort of shape in the sand. It was barely distinguishable and was soon replaced with more sand, but she saw it, if only for an instant. There seemed to be a sort of rounded triangle, along with other indistinguishable lines. It was gone before she could tell what it was, but it reminded her of something. Like she had dreamt of it before, though she had no distinct memory of it.

"Xavia! Are you coming?" Rashid called from above her.

She reluctantly turned her gaze away from the sand and continued towards them.

"Well, here we are," Rashid said, as Xavia ascended the top of the dune. "The middle of the desert, the very heart of Arabia. What do you think of it?"

Xavia looked around slowly. The sun glared on the bright grains of sand, making them sparkle like gold. "It's lovely," Xavia said softly.

"Yes, it is," Rashid agreed. "So many men waste so much time searching for jewels and treasure, but they don't realize that it's right in front of them. I'd rather have this sandy desert than all the gold in the world. _This_ is my gold."

Xavia smiled and glanced at Afzal and Shahzad. Afzal was looking out towards the palace, but Shahzad was facing the opposite direction and frowning. Xavia turned to see what was the matter.

Behind them was an enormous cloud, but it was not just a normal cloud. It was too brown for that, and moving much too fast towards them, on the ground. It ripped up the sand as it moved, sweeping it into itself, growing all the bigger. As she gazed at it, a blast of wind came at them, showering them with sand.

Shahzad turned around quickly. "Father..." he began.

"Yes, my boy?" Rashid asked, turning around. Seeing the enormous cloud of sand, he stopped and stared. "Oh my...let us go quickly now, before it comes upon us."

"What is it?" Xavia asked. "I've never seen anything like it."

"It's a sandstorm," Afzal explained. "They can be very, very dangerous. And with the wind speed of this one...we need to go, and fast."

They started down the dune with the three men in front. Xavia's horse moved more slowly and she started to fall behind. She watched in frustration as the others got farther and farther ahead. The wind was growing stronger by the minute. The sand blasted at her, grinding into her skin like a million tiny daggers.

"Xavia, are you coming?" she heard Afzal shouting to her, though he sounded miles off through the howling wind.

She tried to shout back to him, but her voice was lost in the wind. She slammed her heels into the sides of her horse. It neighed loudly but then slowed and stopped moving altogether. Xavia glanced backward. The cloud was closer now. It was puffy, just like real clouds, except for its color and the way it rolled over the ground so quickly. Xavia bit her lip, as more sand flew at her. Her horse whinnied, then she felt it shift underneath her as it went onto its hind legs. She tried desperately to grab at something—anything—to hold onto, but there was nothing to keep her from sliding off.

Xavia landed on the ground with a thud and rolled a ways in the sand. She sat up slowly, back aching, and turned to glance at the approaching disaster. It tore the sand to pieces as it slid along the desert ground. She stared helplessly for a moment, feeling at once both stricken by fear and also rather disconnected from the world, as if it was all just a dream.

"Xavia!"

She turned to see Shahzad on his horse, racing towards her. If she could get to him, they could still make it to the city.

She forced herself to her feet and started running. The loose sand slid beneath her feet; she stumbled and fell onto her face in the sand. She tried to get up, but the wind pushed her against the ground. The sand was everywhere. It blew over her, covering her, smothering her. Even if Shahzad did manage to get to her, they wouldn't get away now. The storm was upon them. She stayed unmoving on the ground, letting the sand burn into her skin like fire. It hurt badly, but maybe if she just stayed still she could wait out the storm.

"Xavia," she heard Shahzad's voice, low and close to her hear. "Come on," he said. "We can still make it out of here." She felt his hand grab hold of her arm, pulling her off of the sand.

She got to her knees before another hard blast hit them. They both fell to the ground, coughing. The sand was in their mouths, throats, and all over their skin. The wind roared and ripped around them. She heard Shahzad groaning beside her.

Xavia swallowed, then immediately wished she hadn't as she felt grains of sand slip down her throat. She curled into a ball on the ground. She was afraid. The sand still hurt and the hard, fast wind made it feel like she couldn't even breathe. She didn't want to die, she'd hardly even lived!

She felt something solid beneath her hand, just barely buried in the sand. It was small and from what she could tell, shaped like a circle. She dug her fingers into the sand and let her hand close around the object.

Her attention was quickly removed from the object as she realized how quiet it was, everything had gone silent. There was no more wind, no sand beating against her, just silence. She sat up slowly and looked around. The cloud of sand was settling, rather than moving towards them. It made a soft sprinkling sound as the grains of sand fell upon the ground.

Shahzad sat up as well, and brushed the sand from his hair whilst gazing at the sand. "Well," he said, sounding puzzled, "that's odd. I've never seen a sandstorm just stop like that in my life. I guess the wind must have died."

Xavia looked at him, then pulled the object in her hand out of the sand. Opening her fist, the sand fell away from it, and she saw that it was a ring. The band was gold and the jewel was a deep sapphire, but in the center of the jewel was a tiny compartment containing a few sparkling golden flecks. They looked like grains of sand, but they floated about in the compartment.

Shahzad turned to her. "What's that?" he asked.

Xavia held it out. "I found it in the sand."

"Hmm...its pretty. You might as well keep it."

"Can I?"

"Yes. You found it, didn't you?"

Xavia nodded and looked down at the ring, slipping it onto her finger. She looked up and met Shahzad's eyes. "Thank you, for coming back for me. I don't know what I would have done."

"I really didn't do anything," Shahzad said bluntly. "The storm stopped on its own."

"I know, but still...I appreciate it," Xavia said softly.

Shahzad nodded hurriedly. "Well, we should go find my father and Afzal, so they don't think we died in the storm. Come on," he said, standing up and helping her to her feet.

* * *

Tahir ran his hand over the rough stone wall of the pyramid, searching for the entrance. He'd been looking for the desert entrance for hours before deciding that it had gotten buried in the sandstorm, and he wouldn't be able to find it by himself. Finally feeling the small crevasse, he pushed on it until it sprang out about two inches, then pulled it outward to reveal the tiny door. He stepped inside quickly, before anyone could see him. It was night and he'd probably only be accused of tomb robbing, which wasn't good, but not as bad as it could be. Still, he couldn't be too careful. 

Inside, he walked down the hall, keeping one hand running along the wall, so as not to lose his way. He walked for a ways, took a left, and stepped into the first chamber. Nadim was in there; he could hear his pen scratching quickly across some parchment.

"Tahir!" Nadim said, looking up as he entered. "I've been deciphering more of the tablet, and it's very interesting!"

"What does it say?" Tahir asked.

"Well, basically, there's these two circular...rings. Here let me read this to you. 'If the Sands of Time should ever be lost to man, he need only find the two powerful Rings of Sand, which the destined guarded in the days of old. They shall call to the sand, for they _are_ the sand, and the Sands of Time shall keep the peace, throughout the times, evermore.'"

"Rings? Like rings you wear on your fingers?"

"Well, these things can't always be taken literally. From what I can tell, they're probably actually talking about a sort of...archway. Likely you'd have to go through two of them, and then you'd find the Sands of Time. So they must be in some sort of building."

"But the legends say they were lost beneath the surface of the world, under the desert. That's what you told me before," Tahir said dubiously.

"Well, it would be an ancient building, maybe even half buried in the sand by now. At any rate, I think we should look for it. It couldn't do any harm to go out and search in the desert for a little while. It would even get us away from Khalid and the Royal Guard for a while," Nadim said.

Tahir nodded. "We'll bring it up at the next meeting."

"And in the meantime, we can search the immediate desert?" Nadim asked.

"We're _always_ searching the immediate desert, Nadim. We just never find anything," Tahir said dryly.

Nadim laughed. "True, true, but perhaps Shahzad will find something from your princess."

"She's not _my_ princess. She doesn't even know me."

"Oh, but she is your princess," Nadim argued. "She just doesn't realize it yet."

Tahir smiled but shook his head. "We'll have to go and uncover the desert entrances tomorrow. A sandstorm came up and covered them all."

"A sandstorm?" Nadim asked. "And you didn't even mention until now? How bad was it?"

"Not bad. It hardly even hit, didn't even make it all the way to the city. It must have changed direction, although some people are saying that it just stopped—dropped to the ground."

Nadim raised a quizzical brow. "Odd," he said.

"Very," Tahir agreed. "How's Faiza?"

Nadim grimaced. "Not good. I meant to tell you, we should summon Shahzad and have him spend as much time as possible with her...while he still can."

"That bad?" Tahir asked, frowning deeply.

Nadim nodded gravely.

* * *

Well, I would have updated sooner if my power hadn't gone out in the middle of my writing it! I lost like half the chapter and really didn't feel like rewriting it for a few days! But I finally did, so here it is! Enjoy! And review, it makes me happy! Also, thanks to my sister for betaing and stopping me from saying that people wear arches:D 


	9. Chapter 9

Shahzad sat back against the stone wall of the courtyard. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, but he had a feeling it'd been a long time. He'd been to see Faiza last night, and had sat there as soon as he got back. 

The sun was now shining brightly in the sky. He stared at the goldfish, swimming back and forth in the fountain. He looked at his hands, covered with his many rings. He had his signet, his sovereign, his ring of royalty—he pulled it off and flung it harshly at the goldfish.

To heck with royalty! What was the point? Had he ever done anything important with it, _would_ he ever do anything important with it? No. He couldn't even save the girl he loved. _She's not dead yet,_ he reminded himself. But she might as well be. When he'd seen her last night...she was worse than ever before. She could barely talk to him or even keep her eyes open because it hurt so much. She hadn't cried, though. She'd told him that she had felt like crying and she was scared, but she was determined to be brave. She was braver than him.

He felt hot tears sliding down his cheeks. He angrily wiped them away and threw another ring into the fountain. The fish scattered, darting away in bright flashes. It just wasn't fair.

"Shahzad!"

He looked up to see Xavia rushing toward him. He frowned. He really didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. She stopped in front of him, but he didn't look up.

"Everyone's wondering what the matter is with you. You've been sitting here all morning and some of the night," she said.

He stared sullenly past her.

She watched him for a moment, then slipped beside him and sat down. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

He stared at the goldfish, determined not to talk to her.

"Shahzad..." Xavia started.

"Nothing," he finally said.

"Well, that's a lie and you know it," Xavia said.

"Well, if you know so much why don't _you_ just tell me what the matter is," Shahzad growled.

She was quiet for a few minutes. She sat, just looking at him with her green eyes, trying to get him to meet her gaze.

He kept his eyes fixed on the fountain. What right did she have to come and demand answers from him? He was a prince, after all! And she's a princess, he thought dryly.

"Where did you go last night?" she asked, in a lighter tone.

"To see someone," Shahzad replied.

"Who?"

"A friend," he answered.

"Is it...her?"

"I suppose that would depend on who you're talking about."

"You said she understands you. And that she saved you."

Shahzad didn't reply, but threw yet another of his rings into the fountain, scowling as it hit the side rather than landing in the water.

"And all you do is watch her fall," Xavia went on, after a moment.

"Stop!" Shahzad yelled, turning to face her. "Just stop...I don't need to be reminded of what I said."

Xavia looked at him, pity in her eyes. Normally Shahzad would hate having her pity him, but somehow he didn't mind seem to mind so much. "I'm sorry," she said softly, turning her gaze to the fountain.

They sat, just watching the fish for some time.

"It's the plague," Shahzad said after a while.

Xavia glanced at him.

"I don't know why I'm telling you, but...I guess I am."

Xavia nodded.

"She's so far beneath me in station. She's a criminal in fact, a thief."

"One of the 40?" Xavia inquired.

Shahzad glanced at her, then shrugged. "We already went through that. Think what you want."

Xavia nodded.

Shahzad sighed. "I met her in the marketplace when I was sixteen. I probably would have gotten myself killed if it wasn't for her. I was such a fool. And then...I loved her so much," his voice broke for a moment. "She got sick late winter. The plague weakened her so fast, and now...I don't know how much longer she'll last."

"I'm sorry," Xavia said softly. "Is there...anything anyone can do—to help her?"

Shahzad started to shake his head, then stopped. "Well, unless...but no, not really."

"Are you sure? If I could do anything..."

Shahzad looked at her. "Tell me about your dreams," he said.

Xavia looked at him oddly. "Well...what do you want to know?"

"What's in them?"

Xavia shrugged. "Lots of things. Horses...the desert. You're in them sometimes."

"Really? You dream about me, eh?"

She blushed. "Well...I can't help it!"

"You can't help dreaming about me?" Shahzad asked, sounding amused.

"Its not like that," Xavia said quickly. "Actually you're sword fighting usually. With a blind man."

Shahzad sat up quickly. "A blind man?!"

Xavia glanced at him. "Yes," she said slowly.

Shahzad sat back, trying to appear calmer. "Well, that's ridiculous. Why would I sword fight with a blind man? It would be very unfair."

"Actually, the blind man was quite good at fighting."

"Hmm," Shahzad said nonchalantly. "What's he look like?"

"Arabian...but with blue eyes."

_Tahir!_ Shahzad thought. "Odd," he said aloud. "And why was I fighting with him?"

"I don't really know," Xavia said slowly, frowning. "You both seemed very upset, though." She shrugged. "They're very odd dreams. I don't understand them at all."

Shahzad nodded, hardly listening. Why would he be fighting with Tahir? Tahir was practically like a brother to him, and he knew very well that Tahir was the only one of the 40 Thieves who truly trusted him. They all thought he was some passionate fool, giving way to every whim of the moment. That seemed to be what most people thought about him, actually.

"What are you thinking about?" Xavia asked, gazing at him.

Shahzad glanced at her and shrugged. "Your dreams, trying to figure them out. Anything else interesting in them?"

"I don't know if they're really that interesting," Xavia said. "There's sand...rings...sometimes there's a girl in them and she's sick and she...dies. Its so sad."

Shahzad frowned at her. "Does she have...long black hair? Well, everyone in Arabia has black hair, but—is she in a room with strange markings on the wall? And covered in blankets in the center?"

Xavia nodded. "Yes," she said slowly. "How did you know?"

Shahzad stood up quickly. He clenched his fists and start pacing around the courtyard. They were just dreams. They had to be. Faiza wasn't going to die, and he was not going to try to kill Tahir. It was—ridiculous!

"Is something wrong, Shahzad?" Xavia asked, getting to her feet.

"Just leave me alone!" he yelled, picking up a rock from the and throwing it at her.

It landed at her feet, broken into pieces.

Xavia glanced from the rock to Shahzad worriedly. "Shahzad..."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, pursing his lips together. What was his problem? It wasn't Xavia's fault at all and here he was hurling rocks at her! "I'm just...I got carried away."

Xavia nodded, taking a step closer to him. She looked into his dark eyes. "Shahzad, you said you wouldn't hurt me, and I trusted you. Please don't prove me wrong."

Shahzad glanced away. "I—I didn't mean," he looked back down into her green, serious eyes. She trusted him, she didn't think he was a passionate fool, he could see that. But he could easily lose it. He knew he didn't want to. "Xavia, I am sorry." he said. "It won't happen again, I promise," he said, his voice deep and rough.

Xavia nodded. "I'll leave you alone," she said softly.

* * *

"Afzal, we have to do something!" Xavia said, storming into the library.

Afzal looked up with surprise from the script he was reading. "What are you talking about, Xavia?"

"The plague! People are out there dying! And there's no one to do anything about it! I know there's a way to save them, but you just aren't telling me!"

"Xavia, calm down," Afzal said. "First of all, who's dying?"

Xavia pursed her lips. She had a feeling Shahzad wouldn't want her talking about their conversation with anyone else. "Well...lots of people, I'm sure."

"And what made you suddenly so upset about it?"

"Because I care about them."

"About someone who's dying or someone who knows someone who's dying?"

Xavia opened her mouth, then shut it. "Well—both."

"And you know the person who is dying well?" Afzal asked.

"Well...no," Xavia said, sighing. The conversation wasn't turning out how she had wanted it to at all.

Afzal nodded slightly and stood up. He walked to the window and drew back the curtain. He beckoned to Xavia to join him. The window looked out to the courtyard. Shahzad was still wandering throughout it.

"Xavia, even if you did cure the plague...keep in mind that she'd be better, and he'd move on with her. If that is what you wanted to achieve by curing her, then by all means, I'll try my best to help you. But if not..."

Xavia bit her lip, gazing out at Shahzad. After a moment, she dropped her eyes, sighing. She turned her back from the window. "I just want to help," she said, after a moment, though her voice sounded slightly strangled.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to help," Afzal said. "But make sure that your motives are in the right place."

"Is that why you haven't told me anything yet, then?" Xavia asked, still not meeting Afzal's gaze.

"No," Afzal said. "Its just not the right time yet. When you do hear about it, it might not even be from me."

Xavia frowned. "Then from who?"

Afzal smiled. "Someone else," he said with a mysterious smile. "Someone who's been waiting for you."

* * *

Jalal rummaged through the various scrolls and papers and tablets. "What exactly are we looking for?" he asked Nadim.

"Anything mentioning the Sands or rings."

"Rings?" Jalal asked skeptically.

"Yes! I already explained about the rings to you!"

"Oh, right. The arches that they decided to call rings."

"They didn't decide to call them rings, its a matter of translations. The same word can have a million different meanings and—never mind," Nadim said.

"Probably a good idea," Jalal said. "But if you have to translate it to know what it says how in the world am I supposed to know what it says? Why don't we just randomly grab some of this stuff?"

"Because that would be useless," Nadim said slowly. "Just hurry up alright! We don't want to get caught!"

Jalal dubiously grabbed at a piece of parchment and studied it skeptically. It had a picture on it. Some sort of circle...thing. "What about this?" he asked, handing it to Nadim.

Nadim studied it for a moment. "This could be just what we're looking for! It might be a picture of the arches, look the outside circle would be—"

"Nadim! I don't want you to translate it right now for me," Jalal interrupted. "Let's go."

"Right," Nadim replied.

They started for the window.

"Thieves!"

They turned to see the Captain of the Royal Guard, Mohmad, coming towards them from down the hall. They exchanged glances, then made a dash across the room. Jalal put a hand out the window to grab the ladder. Instead he grabbed someone's arm. Jumping back, he turned. There was another of the Royal Guard there.

"You're not escaping this time," Captain Mohmad spoke.

Jalal put his hand on his saber, at his side and Nadim did likewise. They stood back to back.

"We'll fight," Jalal said.

"Don't try it," Mohmad said. "You're surrounded."

Nadim glanced around. He saw a few other men against the walls, though he wasn't sure if they were _completely_ surrounded.

"We'll fight anyway," Jalal said boldly.

Mohmad smiled slightly. "How valiant of you," he said dryly. "Men, restrain them."

They were at once set upon by at least ten men. Jalal pulled his sword quickly, forcing off the attacks. They came faster at Nadim and grabbed his arm just as he was pulling his saber.

"40 Thieves!" one of the men shouted, seeing the brand on Nadim's arm. The man who had hold of him jerked his arm hard, making Nadim stumble to the ground. Jalal was quickly outnumbered and soon they had both of them on the floor.

"40 Thieves, eh?" said another voice. Khalid strode into the room.

Nadim glanced up at him. "And since when did the Royal Vizier deal with criminals?" he asked.

"Since we have a common interest. We both want the Sands of Time. Perhaps we could...share information?"

"Perhaps not," Nadim said.

"Well, you might change your mind when you know the alternative."

"Let them go."

The men all started and glanced down the hall. Shahzad was coming into the library.

"Your highness!" Khalid exclaimed. He and Captain Mohmad bowed awkwardly.

Shahzad watched them. "Let them go," he repeated.

"But...these men are thieves, Your Highness. The law requires—"

"Well, am I the prince, or am I the prince? I said let them go," Shahzad said icily.

Khalid frowned. "Very well, Your Highness," he said. "Although, the decision ought to be for your father only."

Shahzad just stared at him.

"But then, as you say, you are the prince. Perhaps you should start practicing making decisions now."

"Perhaps you should stop talking and obey my instructions," Shahzad said.

Khalid nodded hurriedly. "Let them go, Captain," he said.

Captain Mohmad nodded to his men, who released them.

Nadim and Jalal nodded slightly to Shahzad and headed for the window.

"Those men were criminals, Your Highness," Khalid said, eying Shahzad.

"And what, in your opinion, makes a man a criminal, Khalid?" Shahzad asked.

"They were stealing, Your Highness. And you let them get away with it."

"I did," Shahzad said with a slight shrug.

Khalid watched him a moment, then nodded. "Well, I see you're no fool. Good night, Your Highness." He walked away and was followed closely by Captain Mohmand and his men.

Before he was gone, Shahzad noticed something blue and gold glinting on his finger, almost like the ring Xavia found in the sandstorm. _Odd,_ he thought, turning towards his chambers.

* * *

Sorry for the rather long wait between updates! Busyness plus computer trouble is very inconvenient, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Remember to review! And I'm going to try to get another chapter up before Friday, when I leave for vacation, so be looking for an update! 


	10. Chapter 10

Xavia twisted the ring on her finger, gazing at the floating flecks of gold in the center and the deep blue of the surrounding jewel. She glanced at the wide desert out in front of her. The sun was just starting to peak out from the horizon, starting to light up the desert like fire. She leaned back in her chair. It was the first chair she'd sat in for a long time. The Arabians practically never used chairs, but she'd found it in one of the rooms at the back of the palace late last night. She had immediately dragged it out onto the balcony to sit. She couldn't get to sleep because of the dreams, so at last she'd quit trying and come up here. 

She pulled her knees to her chest and bit her lip. The blind man had been in her dreams...a lot. Well, he was always there a lot but this time more so than before. He'd stared at her in a way, even though he didn't actually see her, and the way he'd looked at her...like he cared so much, but was sort of, well, disappointed with her. And then he'd been swallowed up by the desert and she was left there, screaming and crying. It was very unsettling, to say the least.

But she wouldn't let it happen. Dreams didn't have to come true; they were just dreams after all. She wouldn't let anything happen to him. She leaned back suddenly. What was she talking about? She didn't even know the man and yet she felt some sort of...ridiculously strong loyalty to him. Yes, he'd kissed her, but one kiss certainly didn't mean lifelong loyalty. Still, just because he was a stranger didn't mean she wanted him to die.

She heard pacing behind her. She turned. It was Shahzad. He looked as tired as she felt.

"Hello, Shahzad," she said quietly.

He glanced up, as if just noticing her. "Xavia, I didn't know you were here," he said, "do you want me to go?"

She shook her head. "No, I was just—thinking. I couldn't sleep very well."

He nodded. "Same with me. Did you...dream of _her_ again?"

Xavia glanced at him. "The dying girl? Yes, a little. She's...your friend isn't she?"

Shahzad nodded, glancing out over the half-lit desert.

"Well, I guess we're in the same boat, in a way," Xavia said.

Shahzad turned toward her. "What do you mean? You're in love with someone who's dying as well?" he asked skeptically.

Xavia laughed slightly. "No...I'm not in love with him. I don't really even know if he's dying, I guess. He just—disappears."

Shahzad gazed at her for a moment, then turned back towards the desert. He didn't ask for explanations, just heard what she said. "Do they always come true, your dreams?" he asked, after a moment.

Xavia bit her lip. "You know...I've actually yet to actually see one of them happen. I mean, I guess I dreamt about the desert on the boat before I got here and I've seen it now, but none of them involving actual people have come true. Maybe it doesn't have to happen, at least, not if we don't let it. Maybe we can change it."

Shahzad glanced at her, frowning for a moment, then a sudden gleam came into his eyes. "We can change it," he repeated, starting to pace around. He turned to her abruptly. "Xavia, will you come with me today? Into the desert to look for something."

"I...suppose so," Xavia said. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"Just something. I'll know it when I see it," he said. "Come on."

* * *

"Do you see anything?" Shahzad asked.

Xavia let her eyes roam over the golden desert. It stretched all the way to the horizon, every way she looked. "Just sand," she replied. "It might be more helpful if you told me what we were searching for."

Shahzad simply sped his horse onward.

Xavia sighed and followed, glancing up at the sun. Now fully up, it was climbing higher in the sky every minute, and getting hotter and hotter.

They rode on for some time, with nothing the slightest bit remarkable in sight. In fact, Xavia was starting to wonder if Shahzad could even tell where they were, everything looked the same. He seemed to know where he was going, however.

Xavia paused and wiped the sweat from her face. "Shahzad..." she started to call to him.

"Up ahead!" he shouted. "Do you see it?"

She glanced toward him. There was...something odd shaped ahead of them and darker than the surrounding sand, but she could not quite see what it was. She used her knees to prod her horse forward and came up alongside of Shahzad. "What is it?" she asked.

"Let's go find out," Shahzad said with a slight grin. He kicked his horse and started off at a gallop toward it.

Xavia watched for a moment, then followed suit. She reached him a few minutes later.

He was standing on the sand, staring menacingly at a bunch of boulders. They were slightly darker than the sand and stood up at odd angles.

Shahzad glanced at her. "It's just—rocks," he said hopelessly.

Xavia nodded slightly. He looked so upset about it. "I'm...sorry," she said awkwardly.

Shahzad turned around slowly, taking in their surroundings. He frowned suddenly. "What's that?" he asked, pointing outward.

Xavia followed his arm with her eyes. There was another shape, not far ahead. It was bright, reflecting the sun and stuck up awkwardly from the ground. "More rocks?" she asked dubiously.

Shahzad shook his head. "It's lighter than that, more like the rest of the sand."

"Do you want to go and look at it?" Xavia asked him.

He nodded. "Let's go," he said, climbing back onto his horse.

"It's nothing more than another dune!" he shouted, when they arrived. "Just like every other dune! A stupid, worthless pile of sand!" he yelled.

Xavia watched him, then glanced back at the odd shaped dune. "Perhaps there's something under it?" she offered.

Shahzad glanced at her, then practically leapt from his horse. He dove into the dune and started digging into it, thrusting up pile after pile of sand.

Xavia watched him for several moments. It soon became clear that there was nothing there, and it _was_ just an oddly shaped sand dune.

"Shahzad..."

"I have to find it; it has to be here!" he yelled, desperately clawing at the sand.

Xavia glanced skyward. The sun was directly above them now, beating down on them. The heat was overwhelming. "Shahzad, I think we should get out of the sun. Its midday, why don't we just go back..."

"No!" Shahzad shouted once again.

Xavia slid off her horse's back and came to stand beside him. "The heat—"

"You don't understand!" Shahzad said, glancing at her. "She's dying! I—I have to find it!"

"We can come back later, if you must," Xavia pleaded.

"No, she doesn't have that kind of time! You think I'm going crazy with heat stroke, or maybe you just thought I was crazy all along, but I'm not! I'm fine! And if you want to go, then just go!"

"Shahzad, I don't think you're going crazy," she said softly. "I just think that we should go."

Shahzad glanced at her. He glanced around, breathing hard. He looked wild. After a moment, he got off of his knees and sat on the ground, facing her, pursing his lips together tightly. "I just want to help her," he said, his voice rough and uneven.

"And you can, just—let's go back now."

Shahzad gazed at her for a moment then nodded and stood up. He quietly mounted his horse and they started back.

* * *

Xavia walked around the library. She occasionally took a scroll from the shelf and looked at it, wondering what it said. She knew nothing of the Arabian language, though, so she couldn't decipher any of it.

Eventually she came back to the middle, where the seats were. Shahzad was sitting on a cushion there, staring intently at the floor. She was beginning to worry about him, he was becoming so despondent. _She _must have really been getting bad.

Xavia sighed and sat down on the cushion next to Shahzad.

He glanced at her, then back down at the floor.

They heard footsteps coming towards them from down the hall.

Khalid entered the room. "Oh, I didn't realize you two were in here," he said. He made a swift bow. "Your highnesses."

Xavia glanced at Shahzad.

He seemed to at least be looking at Khalid. Frowning, actually. She sensed some mistrust between them.

Khalid, though, was directing his gaze at her.

"I must say, Princess, that is a very remarkable ring you're wearing."

"Oh, thank you," Xavia said glancing at the blue and gold on her finger. She glanced back up at Khalid, who was watching her rather unnervingly.

"Might I see it?" he asked.

Xavia started to reply, but Shahzad stopped her.

"She doesn't have to show you anything, Khalid," Shahzad said.

"Well, of course not, Highness. I was simply asking, seeing that I...collect objects such as that," he said with a thin smile. "But if you would rather I didn't look at it..."

"I would," Shahzad said, before Xavia could speak.

Khalid nodded and bowed stiffly. "Well, good day, Shahzad...Princess."

Xavia nodded to him.

Shahzad simply watched him turn away.

"What was that all about?" Xavia asked once he was gone. "He just wanted to see my ring."

"Khalid is not a man to be trusted. Whatever he wants with the ring, it's no good. You should stay away from him."

"Then why does your father have him as an adviser?" Xavia asked.

"Because...there are a lot of things Father doesn't realize, Xavia," Shahzad replied.

* * *

Tahir leaned against the wall as he sharpened his daggers. He ran the smooth metal blade over the whetstone again and again. It was an easy, continuous motion which allowed his thoughts to wander.

He'd dreamt of Xavia practically all night last night. She was in danger. He never actually saw anyone else in the dreams, but he just knew. Khalid was after her. He also knew that Shahzad would be there to stop him, but it made him wonder...what if Shahzad wasn't there sometime?

He sighed. He wished that she was here with him, that he could talk to her, know that she was alright. She didn't even know him, though. Maybe she wouldn't even like him if she did. He laughed slightly. How ironic it would be if she hated him and they were fate bound. He only hoped he hadn't hurt her that day by kissing her. He wouldn't have done it if he'd known the trouble it could cause. He just wanted her to be alright.

"Tahir, Faiza is calling for you," Nadim said from the doorway.

Tahir set his knives and whetstone down and stood up. He followed the sound of Nadim's footsteps to Faiza's room. Her breathing was ragged, he could hear it as soon as he entered the room. He walked over to her bedside.

"Tahir," she said softly.

"I'm here," he replied.

"I don't feel very good," she said after a moment.

Tahir smiled slightly. "Well, I'm sure you'll feel better soon."

"No, you're not," she said. "I'm not getting any better, Tahir, I think we both know that by now."

"I suppose so," Tahir said with a slight sigh

"I'm going to miss being a Thief," she said. "We had good times, and...I would have liked to have found the Sands."

"I would have liked it, too," Tahir said his voice getting rough. Faiza had been a good friend. A very good friend.

"When you went traveling...was it for a girl, Tahir?"

Tahir frowned slightly. "What?"

"Before you left...I said that you were going to find your girl. You were quite adamant that you weren't, but...I didn't believe you. Did you find her?" she said asked. She was smiling. He could hear it in her voice.

Tahir just laughed.

"Well, you did you?" Faiza asked again.

Tahir pursed his lips. "I suppose I did."

"Good," Faiza said after a moment. "Now you had better be happy together," she said, her was tone demanding, but her voice was growing soft and weak. She coughed, a hard, racking cough. It sounded like she could hardly breathe. "Is Shahzad...?"

Tahir shook his head. "No, but I'll send someone for him."

"I'm here," it was Shahzad, striding into the room. He slid down next to Faiza.

Tahir rose up and backed away.

"Shahzad," Faiza said softly.

"Faiza," he replied, "how are you tonight, darling?" He took one of her hands and kissed it.

"I'm not in the best shape, but I _am_ better."

"How so?" Shahzad asked, lightly smoothing her hair back.

"I told you before that I was afraid and I didn't want to die, but...I'm alright now. I know I'm going to die, but...I'm not afraid."

Shahzad frowned. "You won't die, Faiza. We'll find the Sands of Time first and heal Arabia," he said determinedly, with a backward glance at Tahir and Nadim, who were standing just outside the door.

"Shahzad...I hope that you do find it...but it won't be soon enough...for me," Faiza said softly. Her eyes closed.

"Faiza!" Shahzad shouted, squeezing her hand tightly. "Faiza, don't!"

She opened her eyes again and glanced at him. "I'm still here."

"Good," he said, his voice breaking. "Now stay here. You can still pull through this."

"Shahzad, I love you," she said. "Remember that. And remember what you promised me. Don't blame anyone for what happened to me. Its no one's fault...maybe it's better off this way..."

"Don't talk like that," Shahzad said desperately. "You can't—you're not—I love you."

She smiled slightly. "I love you, too," she said, her voice just a slight whisper. Her eyes shut again. They didn't open.

"No...no!" Shahzad shouted frantically. He stared at her chest. It wasn't moving. "Faiza!" he yelled, screamed at her. She didn't respond. He grabbed her shoulders and started to shake her. The world was just a blur, nothing made any sense anymore. She wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead!

"Shahzad!" Tahir and Nadim were pulling him away from her.

He spun away from them. He grabbed a pot from a table by the wall and slammed it into the ground. "We should've done something! She shouldn't have died like this! We could have found the Sands of Time, I know we could've!"

* * *

Well, that was kind of depressing. Hmm...well, I'll be gone for a week...actually, more than a week but just by a few days. But perhaps I'll write some on my vacation and post it right away when I get back. Anyway, reviews would be nice! Some of it seemed, maybe a tad choppy so any CC is helpful. 


	11. Chapter 11

I went ahead and wrote this even though I currently can't save it with the rest of the story. (Shakes fist at stupid, evil computer!) So you'd better appreciate it! Lol, anyway, remember to review. It will make me happy.

* * *

Xavia walked into the stone courtyard. She glanced at the fountain, then at Shahzad, sitting in a corner against the wall again, running his hands through his now unruly hair. He'd been like this for two days and had refused to speak to anyone. She walked to him and sat down.

"Shahzad...you need to eat," she said.

He said nothing.

"Shahzad, please. You can't ignore the world forever."

No response.

She sighed and was about to get up again when he spoke.

"She died," he said. "Faiza."

Xavia turned back to him. "That was her name then," she said softly.

He nodded silently. After a moment he spoke again. "You know, all the time I saw that she was dying, I knew it, but I never really believed it would happen. I guess people are just like that—with everything. We think we can't die and no one that we know can die. We know the truth but we just won't look at it. It's like being _us_ somehow makes us invincible, untouchable to the world. Nothing bad can happen to _us. _But we're just as fragile as everyone else."

Xavia looked at him.

"We used to go for walks together, her and I. And eat coconuts. We'd climb the trees and pick them ourselves. She didn't believe in buying them. She said if they weren't worth working a little bit for, they weren't worth eating," he drew a sharp breath. "I miss her so much. And you know, it's only been two days. I probably wouldn't have even seen her again yet if she were alive, but now that I won't _ever_ see her again...it makes it a lot harder."

Xavia looked at him. He had tears running down his cheeks, but he ignored them, as if he didn't even feel them. She felt a tear of her own slip down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly.

"I was so angry at first and now...I just feel sort of...numb. Like everything is just fake." He didn't even glance at her as he spoke.

"Shahzad...I can't understand how you feel and I probably can't even make you feel any better at all, but...please come inside and have something to eat!"

He glanced at her sideways and sighed. "Alright."

Xavia got to her feet and Shahzad did the same, though slower, as if it took a tremendous amount of effort. She took his hand and led him out of the courtyard.

* * *

Xavia sat in the library, drumming her fingers on the floor. She had been reading, but she wasn't really paying any attention to her book. She stood up and paced to the window. Shahzad was sitting in the courtyard again. He looked anything but happy.

Xavia sighed. She wished there was something she could do for him, to make him feel better, but she knew there wasn't. He just needed to grieve. She heard footsteps behind her. It was Khalid.

He smiled pleasantly.

She just stared back, remembering Shahzad's warning about the man.

"Looking at Shahzad?" he asked. "It's sad, isn't it? Whatever happened to him, that is."

Xavia nodded slightly.

"Do you know what it is that's made him so...upset?"

She glanced at him, then shook her head. She did know, of course, but she didn't want Khalid to know.

Khalid nodded. "I suppose we never will. It's too bad somebody didn't have the foresight to see it coming, though, and do something about it."

Xavia frowned slightly. She _had_ seen it coming and she'd tried to stop it along with Shahzad. "Well—it's over now."

Khalid nodded. "That it is. Do you suppose it could have been stopped, though? If someone had just had a—premonition. Can you change premonitions, do you suppose?"

"I—I don't know," Xavia said awkwardly. What was he trying to get at?

"Don't you now?"

Xavia looked out the window again, trying to turn her attention back to the courtyard and Shahzad. Khalid was still watching her.

"Because I would have thought that you of all people _would_ know," Khalid said.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she replied.

Khalid smiled. "I've heard your dreams, Princess, and the things you shout out at night."

"Well, those are just dreams. Certainly not premonitions," Xavia said uncomfortably.

"Truly?"

She nodded.

"I don't believe you," Khalid said. "Tell me, what do you dream about, Xavia? From what I've heard, they sound most...interesting."

Xavia swallowed. "They're just dreams."

Khalid edged closer. He had a blade in his hand. "Tell me."

There were footsteps in the hallway behind them. Afzal entered the room. "Xavia, I've been looking for you. I was hoping we could go for a stroll," he said, glancing from her to Khalid.

"I'd love to," Xavia said, stepping around Khalid awkwardly.

"Don't say a word about this," he breathed as she walked past.

She was his blade flash in his hand. She started to walk faster.

* * *

Tahir sat against the wall, just thinking. He noticed that he didn't hear Nadim's pen, as he usual did.

"Don't you have anything to be translating, Nadim?"

He heard Nadim start, probably from his sleep.

"Oh, I—I suppose so. It just seems...awkward, now. Like everything ought to have stopped."

Tahir nodded. "I know what you mean. Without Faiza...but life does go on."

"Of course."

There were footsteps, fast ones. It was Shahzad's, he'd recognize the way the man paced anywhere. Tahir rose to his feet and he heard Nadim do the same.

"Shahzad...you didn't come to the funeral."

"I know," Shahzad said, sounding disconnected and unemotional.

"All the other Thieves were there."

Shahzad did not reply.

"She would have wanted you to come."

"Well, it's over now, isn't it?!" Shahzad said loud and angrily.

Tahir pursed his lips. "Yes, I suppose it is."

There was a momentary silence.

"So...what do we do now?" Shahzad asked suddenly.

Tahir sighed. "Go on with life; try to find the Sands."

"It seems kind of useless now."

"Arabia can still use it, even if Faiza cannot."

Shahzad made some indistinct sound. He couldn't be sure whether it was in agreement or disagreement.

"So where is it?" Shahzad asked after a moment. "If we're trying to find it, shouldn't we be out looking for it?"

"We're going to discuss that at the next meeting," Tahir said. "Hopefully form a sort of expedition. Nadim thinks we could find it if we find some...arches."

Shahzad said nothing.

"Shahzad, there's something else I'd like to discuss with you. One of our men in the palace said that Khalid practically attacked the princess trying to get information about her dreams."

"I know, I was told as well," Shahzad replied. "He didn't get anything out of her, though."

"Because Afzal walked in just in time. If he hadn't..."

"But he did," Shahzad said simply.

"I know, but...Shahzad, we all know you're...not exactly yourself right now and for safety reasons, perhaps we should bring the princess here to stay instead. For her safety, and the safety of any information she may hold."

"You don't trust me," Shahzad said testily.

"Shahzad, I do trust you. It's just—"

"You think I'd let Khalid kill her! I'm not that far gone, Tahir! I've not turned completely mad in my grief yet, and I still do notice things!"

"I'm not insinuating that you don't," Tahir said. "I just want to ensure her safety."

"She _is_ safe! I wouldn't let anyone touch her, I promise you!"

"Khalid practically did already, Shahzad. In broad daylight, too."

Shahzad was silent a moment. "You don't trust me, Tahir. That's the long and short of it, isn't it? Do what you want with her, but I'll have no part in it." He spun on his heel and walked away.

"Well, that went well," Tahir said dryly.

"Well, what _are_ we going to do with her, then?" Nadim asked.

Tahir sighed. "We will bring her here, for her safety."

* * *

The horses, if they just followed the horses...the ring...the other ring, it had to be found...there was something underneath them...cracking like thunder...Shahzad was...not himself...there was a hand on her throat...she screamed something, some name... "Tahir!" Xavia woke to find that not all was a dream. There was a hand on her throat and a knife as well. It was Khalid. She screamed.

"What do you know?" he asked.

"What?!"

"You've been rather close with Shahzad and now you're screaming things out in your sleep. Tell me, what do you know?"

"What are you talking about? Know about what?!"

"The 40 Thieves," he said.

"Nothing! I know nothing!"

"I don't believe you," he said, pressing the knife into her skin. "Who is Tahir?"

"I don't know!"

"Then why did you say his name?"

"I don't know! I dream things, but I don't understand them. They make no sense! I don't know who Tahir is, I swear it!"

"Would you rather I took you down to the dungeons to question you? We have very convincing ways," Khalid said.

"No! I don't know anything!" Xavia screamed, crying.

Khalid growled, moving closer to her.

She could feel his hot breath on her neck.

One of his hands slipped down her arm and her hand to her finger, lingering on the bright blue and gold ring. "Where did you get this ring?" he questioned, pulling it off her finger.

"I found it, in the desert."

Khalid examined the ring. "When?" he asked.

"During the sandstorm!"

He frowned. "The one that mysteriously stopped right before it hit the city?"

Xavia nodded, trying to edge her neck away from the knife.

He dug it into her skin. "Did you find it before or after the storm stopped?"

"Right before!"

He smiled then. "Perfect," he said, slipping it into his pocket. "Now, tell me who Tahir is."

"I told you, I don't know!"

"Answer, or else..." Khalid said.

Xavia bit her lip in exasperation. She had nothing to tell him! She felt the knife, sharp, cutting into her skin and sliding through it. She screamed; he clamped his hand over her mouth.

"If you talk, I'll stop."

There was suddenly a loud scrambling from the window. Khalid was knocked from in front of her onto the floor. She sat up quickly and glanced around. There were several men in the room wearing dark cloaks, concealing their faces. She wasn't quite sure if they meant her harm or good.

Khalid started to get up.

One of the men pulled a out a long, curved sword. "Don't move," he whispered dangerously to Khalid.

Khalid obeyed, still eying the man testily. They all circled around him with their swords out. Khalid suddenly plunged forward and grabbed the arm of one of them. The man dropped his sword as Khalid pulled the cloak upward, to see the man's forearm

Xavia saw the mark, like a backward three and a dot, a white scar on the man's darker colored skin.

"Forty thieves!" Khalid shouted loudly, trying to wake the palace.

The man who'd spoken first grabbed the sword from the ground and crossed it over his own, making a V around Khalid's neck. "Don't speak. I'd kill you now, but that would make me like you." He turned to one of his comrades. "Nadim, get her," he said, indicating Xavia.

The one called Nadim came towards her.

Xavia jumped to her feet. "What do you want with me?" she asked.

"We're protecting you. It would be easier if you did not resist us," the first one replied, still with his swords at Khalid's throat.

"Protecting me? By coming in the middle of the night to kidnap me?"

"We just saved your life, Xavia, if you haven't already forgotten."

Xavia took a step back. The man knew her name. Of course, probably most people did; it'd been announced that she was here...but the way he'd said it. She knew his voice. It couldn't be, this man did not act as a blind man! But then, neither had the blind man before...

"Nadim."

The man stepped closer to her. "Come," he said.

She shook her head.

"We must go now, Princess!" the man—Nadim—said.

She stayed her ground.

He sighed and lunged toward her, grabbing her arms and pulling her with him.

She planted her legs firmly on the ground. He'd have to drag her. She glanced backward at the other one, who was now tying Khalid up. She noticed he did it awkwardly, having to feel that the knots were in the right places. She frowned. If he was blind...how could he fight so well yet not be able to tie ropes? A few of the other men still remained, but most had gone out the window. When the one was done tying Khalid up, he stepped towards her.

Xavia swallowed, trying to think of something to stall them. "My ring!" she shouted. "I won't go without my ring. He has it!"

The man turned back to Khalid. "Her ring?"

Khalid frowned.

The man drew his long, curved sword again. "I won't kill you unarmed, but...some things feel much worse, I assure you."

"In my right pocket," Khalid replied.

He bent down and located Khalid's pocket very awkwardly, having to feel where the cloth separated and formed a pocket. After a moment, he stood up and held the ring out to her.

She grabbed it swiftly and hurriedly slipped it on her finger. "I won't go with you," she said firmly.

The man said nothing, just nodded at Nadim, who still had hold of her. He simply picked her up and carried her out the window.


	12. Chapter 12

The camel swayed as it walked. Perhaps it was only her imagination or the fact that she was sitting on top of an enormous hump with no form of a saddle, but in any case, Xavia felt did not feel very sturdy. They started to dip down one of the dunes, and she lurched forward. The man behind her seemed to be having no such problems. The man put his hand on her arm. 

"I won't let you fall, Princess."

She stiffened. "You are Nadim, are you not?" she asked.

"That I am, Princess."

"Well, Nadim, I would not have thought that the Forty Thieves would stoop to riding on _camels_."

"We don't always, but camels are much easier to come by than horses, and their tracks are much less obvious."

Xavia did not reply, but instead glanced ahead. The other riders were coming to a halt.

Nadim stopped the camel and jumped off. He held out his hand to her.

She took it reluctantly and swung her leg over the side of the camel, hopping down.

"Can I trust you not to run away if I'm not holding on to you?" Nadim asked.

Xavia glanced around. All she could see was dunes every way she looked. She wouldn't even know which way to run. "I don't see where I would go," she replied.

"Good. Walk."

She sighed and walked over to where the other Thieves had gathered. They were digging around in the sand, shoving it this way then that, seemingly searching for something. She stood a short distance from them, while Nadim joined them.

"It must have been buried when the wind picked up," someone said.

"Aye," Nadim replied. He jumped on the sand, took a few steps, then jumped again.

Xavia sighed and glanced at the sky. The stars were gleaming bright white, dotting the entire bluish-black sky. Parts of it were lighter, milkier looking. It was beautiful, but entirely unfamiliar to her. At home, it was different. The stars were arranged quite differently there. Xavia bit her lip. For the first time since she arrived, she was beginning to miss home.

She turned back to the Thieves.

Nadim jumped on the sand. It had a hollow sound to it. The men turned to the spot excitedly and at once began brushing the sand away. It revealed a large, smooth square of stone, which was lifted off. Underneath was an opening, a sort of passageway it seemed.

The men started dropping into it, while one of them herded all the camels together and started leading them away, presumably back to wherever they had got them in the first place.

"Come, Xavia," the man whose voice she recognized beckoned to her from the opening.

She walked over to him and glanced down at the tunnel-like opening. She pursed her lips and glanced around, wishing she had a chance for running.

"There's a ladder," the man said.

She nodded and looked down. Seeing it, she turned and placed her foot on it, slowly and somewhat nervously climbing down.

It was extremely dark below; she couldn't make out any of her surroundings. She could only hear the footsteps of the others, but she could not tell where they were going.

From behind, the man seized her hand. His hand was hard and callused, but very warm.

She started, jumping in the darkness.

"This way," he said.

She let him lead her down halls she would have never been able to find her way through in the darkness. There were a great many twists and turns, and she found it hard to understand how one could find their way around even if it wasn't dark.

Soon, though, the darkness began to fade and she could see torches on the walls lighting the way ahead. They walked towards them, then through a tall, stone doorway into a room covered in strange carvings, Egyptian glyphs by the looks of them. The others were there as well.

The man released her hand and flung his hood off.

Xavia stared. She recognized his voice, but actually seeing him...it was strange. She wasn't sure which made it odder, that he'd kissed or that she'd dreamed about him practically every night since she'd boarded the ship to Arabia. After pondering this for a moment, she remembered her earlier resolve, stepped forward, and slapped him in the face.

He flinched ever so slightly.

"You kissed me! And now you kidnapped me! Who are you? What do you want with me?" she shouted.

The room grew very quiet.

"I am Tahir," he spoke. "I can explain about the kidnapping. As for kissing you...I'm sorry. I can explain about that, too, though you still may not find my reasoning satisfactory."

Tahir, of course. It made sense, she supposed, since whenever she dreamed about him she woke up with his name in her head. In any case, he had no business kidnapping her! Perhaps Shahzad would rescue her, perhaps that was why they had been fighting in her dreams.

He was staring at her, which she found very unnerving. Before she'd slapped him, she was sure he was blind. When he'd thrown off his hood, he hadn't ever looked directly at anything, but now he was definitely looking directly at her. His eyes startled her, though she'd seen them before. They were so...blue against his tanned skin and black hair.

"Are you blind?" she asked suddenly, wanting to know for sure.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

She frowned.

"Aside from occasionally being able to see you, that is."

She looked up at him, startled, yet not. It seemed to fit with everything else. He always looked at her, but not at anything else really.

"If you'll walk with me, I'll explain everything," he said, holding out his arm.

She hesitated for a moment, then took it. He led her out the door and through the hallway.

"Well, what would you like to start with?" Tahir asked.

"Why did you kiss me?" Xavia promptly asked.

Tahir grimaced. "I was hoping that wouldn't be your first question," he said.

Xavia didn't reply.

"Very well. I kissed you because...I'm in love with you."

Xavia stopped walking and turned to face him. "What?!"

"I know it sounds strange, but...I'm one of the destined. We see things sometimes. Flashes of things, pictures, and dreams. I—"

"Dreams?" Xavia squeaked, interrupting.

"Yes...And I saw you. For practically my whole life, you were the one person I could really see," Tahir said.

"What kind of dreams?" Xavia inquired, not even paying attention to his other claims.

"Um, well, it depends on the circumstances...why?"

"Ever since I came here...well, before that actually. Ever since that day you kissed me I've had strange dreams. About you mostly. But also the desert and Shahzad and...Faiza. I saw her die."

Tahir seemed to tense. "You know about Faiza?"

Xavia nodded.

"What all did Shahzad tell you about us?" he asked slowly.

"Not much," Xavia replied. "He was very elusive about you all. He never even directly told me he was one of you, but I saw his mark."

"Like this?" Tahir asked, holding out his arm.

Xavia glanced at the scar, white against the darker skin. "Yes."

Tahir nodded. "He did it himself actually. He was swearing his loyalty to us...I guess he wanted to prove how serious he was about it."

"He burned it into his arm himself?!" Xavia asked, horrified.

"Aye. He screamed for about an hour afterward, it seemed. I told him it was an incredibly stupid idea, but he wouldn't listen. Perhaps he just wanted to impress Faiza."

Xavia was quiet, biting her lip. "He was wild about her, wasn't he?"

"I'm not sure wild even begins to describe it."

She nodded. "You still haven't really told me why you kissed me yet," she said, abruptly changing the subject.

Tahir sighed. "It was foolish of me. But you were always in my head and...I wanted to see you, so I left Arabia to look for you. I found you and...my emotions got away from me. So I kissed you. I realized afterward the effects it could happen. It was the kiss that probably made you into one of the destined, which is why you're having dreams like that." When she didn't reply he went on. "And since you say I'm the center of most of your dreams, we're probably...fate bound."

She whirled around to look at him. "Fate bound? What's that mean?"

Tahir hesitated. "Well, that our fates are entwines and...you'll probably fall in love me." He immediately realized that hadn't been the best way of putting it, as Xavia looked near to slapping him again.

"What?! First you turn me in to one of your 'destined' people, which, by the way, could have gotten me killed by Khalid! Then you kidnap me and tell me that I'm going to fall in love with you?! I most certainly am not! I don't care if you think you love me, it takes more than a few dreams to fall in love! You don't even know me!" she shouted.

"Xavia..."

"Don't call me that! It's 'Your Highness,' if you haven't forgotten that I am royalty and you are not!" She fled from him, running down the nearest hall.

Tahir watched her go. She'd get herself lost in those hallways. And he hadn't even gotten to the Sands of Time yet.

Xavia ran. She didn't care where she was going, she just wanted to go. Moving fast with no one around, it made her feel free, though she knew it was a false freedom. She knew she was more or less stuck in a labyrinth underground with no hope of getting out. But at least she could run.

After a while, she stopped running. She was completely lost. Someone would probably come and find her before too long, though. She slumped against the wall, and hugged her knees to her chest.

* * *

She didn't want Tahir to be in love with her. And she didn't want to be in love with him. And she _certainly_ did not want it forced upon her because of this 'fate bound' thing that he spoke of. She had wanted to save Arabia when she came, to heal it from the plague, not fall in love with some strange, blue-eyed Arabian who kissed her in the rain with no propriety at all! 

She wanted to go back to the palace and talk with Afzal and Rashid. And Shahzad. She sighed deeply. But Shahzad was depressed and likely wouldn't talk to her anyways. He'd loved Faiza madly, and now she was gone. He wouldn't be the same. Not now, perhaps not ever.

Xavia pursed her lips and looked at the walls, illuminated by the many burning torches. The flames ducked and shivered, casting an ever moving glow on the glyphs covering the walls.

She became aware that Tahir was standing next to her, but she didn't look up at him.

"They are interesting, are they not?" he asked.

She glanced at him.

"The glyphs, I mean."

She frowned. "You're blind."

"Oh, I know, but I can see you and where you're looking, and I know that the glyphs are on the wall."

"They look Egyptian," she said.

"They are."

"Why? We're not in Egypt."

"But we _are_ in a pyramid," Tahir replied.

Xavia started. "You mean—"

"The one in the center of the city, yes."

"But—"

"We came the long way, through the underground tunnels. No one will bother us in here since they think its the tomb of Seti."

"Seti?"

"The pharoah who came to visit Arabia. He worked to find the Sands of Time, to cure the Death Plague."

"The plague can be cured?" Xavia asked, interested now.

Tahir nodded. "If the Sands of Time are found. The problem is that they can also be used to gain great power, something that is easily abused. Many political leaders wanted it for themselves, the same as now, so everything had to be done in secret. When Seti fell ill with the plague himself, he demanded that a pyramid was built for him, actually to help the Forty Thieves. It was built in the very center of the city. Seti was never actually buried here, though. It has ever served as a meeting place for the Forty Thieves."

"But what are the Sands of Time? How can we find them?"

Tahir smiled slightly. "No one really knows exactly, but we're working on it. Nadim can tell you more about it. Come." He held out his hand.

She took it without hesitation.

* * *

The palace was in an uproar in the morning. Everyone rushed about, trying to find what had happened to the foreign princess. Khalid had sworn he'd merely been walking by when he'd heard screaming coming from her room. He went to see if everything was alright and was tied up and nearly killed by the forty thieves. 

Shahzad had given a half-hearted argument as to how ridiculous the idea was. The men were thieves, wanting to steal riches for themselves, not kidnap princesses. He wasn't sure if Rashid really believed him or not. The truth was, he didn't really care that much at the moment. Tahir didn't trust him anymore, and now he'd stolen away his only other friend.

In any case, there were no visible tracks, so it didn't seem to matter very much what anyone said. The Forty Thieves were gone.

Shahzad sat passively in the courtyard, watching the ruckus of people pacing back and forth trying to decide what could be done. It seemed rather pointless.

He glanced upward, at the library window. Afzal was there, watching him. Afzal probably knew what was going on. He always did. He'd known about Faiza, but he never told anyone. Shahzad doubted he'd say anything now either. The man was good with keeping secrets.

Before long he faced the fountain again. He missed Xavia. She talked to him more freely than anyone else, almost like Faiza did. There were no politics or secrets involved in it; it was just them, talking.

With a sigh, he rose to his feet. He'd go and get her, then. It was the simplest solution. Of course, he doubted Tahir would really let him bring her back, but...he'd try. And at least he'd get to see her if he didn't succeed.

* * *

I didn't proofread the very last section cause I need to sleep, so if you see any mistakes, please point them out! And remember to review always! 


	13. Chapter 13

Xavia glanced around the room. The walls were illuminated with a dim amber light from the flickering torches. The carvings were etched perfectly into the wall and painted in earthy reds and browns. Against the wall there were piles of treasure. Gold coins were stacked high and surrounded by bright colored gems. There were sheets of smooth, shimmery silk and copper statues of strange animals. Nadim said most of them were elephants of the African plains or phoenixes, mythical birds of fire. 

Nadim sat next to her on the long sarcophagus-table, scratching his quill furiously across the parchment, glancing now and then at an old-looking tablet next to him. Earlier he had tried to explain a little about translating to her, but he'd evidently gotten too distracted by the contents of the tablet to continue.

Tahir was across from her, thrumming his fingers on the table. He was waiting for whatever Nadim had to say about the tablet. He wasn't looking at her, and she was immensely glad of it. She hoped he couldn't see her now; he had told her that his sight came and went. She found it very awkward when he was staring at her.

Nadim suddenly dropped his quill onto the table noisily.

Xavia glanced towards him and saw Tahir tense and face the sound.

"There!" Nadim said. "I've finished. Now that I've read about the arches, this whole section just came together. The arches should stand out very much. They're supposed to be made of sapphire and have something of the Sands within them. One of them is in the middle of the desert and one is in the Sultan's City."

"But—I thought that this is the Sultan's City," Xavia said.

"Well—yes, it is—" Nadim stammered. "I mean, it is now, but before the Sands were lost, it might have been somewhere else. I think there must be some ancient city out in the desert, it was probably abandoned long ago. It must be very grand, to have an arch of sapphire. We simply need to go and look for it. It should be plain as day." He turned hopefully to Tahir.

Xavia glanced towards Tahir as well. Nadim had said he'd been pushing for a real expedition for a long time now, but the Thieves never approved it at the meetings. They said there was nothing substantial to look for. Perhaps now there was.

Tahir was biting his fingernails and frowning downward intently. "So you really think this is it?" he asked after a moment.

"I do," Nadim replied.

"Well, then we'll propose it to the Thieves tomorrow night," Tahir said with a slight smile.

"So you're finally going to do something," came a dry voice from the doorway.

Xavia took a sharp breath, as Nadim and Tahir both turned.

He entered then. She knew him immediately with his black hair, sharp features. His dark eyes roamed over the room, then rested on her. She was extremely happy to see him.

"Shahzad!" she exclaimed, springing out of her chair and practically flinging herself at Shahzad.

He smelled nice, and he was clean. All the rest of them didn't look like they'd been near a bath in far too long. She realized after she was in his arms that it might be considered rather improper, but he was holding her just as fiercely as she clung to him

She pulled back just enough so she could raise her eyes to his. "It's nice to see a familiar face," she said. Of course, Tahir's face was familiar as well, but...she didn't know him like she knew Shahzad.

"Yes, it is," Shahzad said. "Well, actually I saw familiar faces before, but...its nice to see _you._" His eyes shifted from her across the room. "Though I think they're getting the wrong idea about us," he said with a smile.

Xavia laughed slightly. "What wrong idea?" she asked, tossing her head around to look at Tahir. From the way he was staring, she guessed he could see them right now. He didn't look happy, perhaps even a little jealous. He _had_ said he loved her, and her being so close with Shahzad was probably hurting him, but...she didn't really care. It was good to see Shahzad smile again. She hadn't seem him look even slightly happy since Faiza died, and she intended to enjoy this while it lasted.

"Shahzad," Tahir started, in a rather grave tone.

Shahzad released his hold of her with one arm and they both turned towards Tahir and Nadim. He kept one arm firmly around her waist.

"Tahir," Shahzad replied coldly. "So, you kidnapped her after all. I wasn't sure you would really do it."

"I thought it was for the best," Tahir said.

"The whole city is in an uproar. Everyone's looking for her. My father would give a great reward to anyone who knew her whereabouts."

"But nobody does know."

There was an icy silence. Xavia glanced from Tahir to Shahzad. Their words seemed laced with double meanings, and she could tell they were on dangerous ground with one another. She wasn't sure where she stood between them.

"Will you come to the meeting tomorrow?" Tahir asked after a moment.

"I don't know. I suppose I probably will...after all, I wouldn't want to miss the vote on your expedition, would I?"

Tahir said nothing, simply staring.

"And I'll want to see Xavia again," Shahzad added, tightening his arm about her.

She saw Tahir glance from her to Shahzad's hand on her waist, with his jaw clenched. Shahzad was smiling thinly. She suddenly felt like she was being used and started to pull away from Shahzad, her face flaming.

"Well, I suppose I should be going, now that I've seen she's alright. I trust you'll take care of her," Shahzad said.

The barrier between them seemed to break suddenly.

"Of course I will," Tahir replied. "And Shahzad...I really do hope you do come to the meeting. We could use all the votes for the expedition we can get, and it's what you wanted...before."

"Yes, I know you could. How is it that all these men follow you so readily and yet when it comes to voting, they always seem to be against you?" Shahzad said with a laugh.

Tahir grinned back. "I have no idea," he said.

Xavia smiled. She liked them together much better now. They seemed now to be two men who truly trusted and respected each other, quite a change from before.

"Well, I'd best go, before they assume I was kidnapped as well," Shahzad said with a good-natured grin. He took a few steps toward the doorway, then stopped.

Xavia watched as his mood seemed to change drastically.

His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened. He turned towards her with a fierce gaze. "I'm taking her with me," he said adamantly.

"What?!" Tahir exclaimed. "You can't; she's—"

"I don't care!" Shahzad yelled. "You just have to take everything from me, don't you?! First Faiza, now her."

"I didn't take Faiza from you, Shahzad. She had the plague!"

"No! You could have stopped it! If you had just found the Sands of Time! If anyone had tried at all to look for it, we could have saved her, I know we could! But now, after she's dead, _now_ you want to form an expedition! And then you insist on taking Xavia from me, too! The only other person in the world who knows me and trusts me! You just want me to be miserable, don't you?!"

"I know you and I trust you, Shahzad," Tahir said quietly.

Shahzad shook his head. He looked like he was fighting off tears. "If you trusted me, you'd trust me to take care of her. I could do it, Tahir! I'd make sure nothing happened to her!"

"I'm sorry, Shahzad, but you're still shook up over Faiza and I know Khalid is after her now—"

"You don't trust me," Shahzad said, breathing hard. He turned to the door and bolted out.

"Shahzad!" Xavia cried out.

There was no reply.

After a moment, Xavia turned away from the doorway and faced the wall. She almost felt like bursting into tears, but she wouldn't let Tahir see her cry—not ever. She just wished Shahzad wouldn't be so...moody. And she wished he'd come back.

"Xavia," Tahir spoke from behind her.

She whirled around and looked at him.

He looked like he wanted to help her. His blue eyes were kind. But she didn't want him.

"Just—leave me alone, alright? I don't know you...and you don't know me. I want to be alone."

He nodded and turned away, but his face was crestfallen.

* * *

Shahzad sat in the courtyard. The azure sky was completely cloudless and the sun shone brightly. That was how it was most days. It was almost annoying, really. Why couldn't there be rain, clouds, anything? It would be much nicer to have the weather be bad when he was in a bad mood. Maybe he could even blame his bad mood _on_ the bad weather.

He knew his meeting with Tahir hadn't gone well, but it wasn't his fault. Tahir just didn't understand—didn't trust him. It wasn't fair. Faiza had trusted him. Xavia trusted him. But never Tahir, or Nadim, or all those he wanted most to trust him.

He felt his throat tighten as he thought about it. Tahir and him used to get along. He'd always counted Tahir as his best friend, from the moment he'd met him. They used to meet together every market day in the alley next to the spices and perfumes. That was the one place where it didn't smell like the rotting fish that the sailors would bring in from the coast. They'd talk about things—girls, weapons, land, the plague. It was after he met Faiza that Tahir told him about the Forty Thieves. He'd been eager to join. Mostly because of Faiza, but also for his people.

But lately everything had changed. He seemed to be on a downward spiral with all of his friends. It was their fault! They were the ones who didn't trust him, didn't understand at all! And he hated them!

He clenched his fist tightly.

"Shahzad, Shahzad, Shahzad."

He glanced around quickly. It was Khalid.

The man came closer to him, with a thin lipped smile.

Shahzad said nothing to him.

"You look so...morose," Khalid said smoothly.

Shahzad watched the water shoot out of the fountain and fall back into it.

"Is it your friends again?" Khalid asked.

Shahzad jerked his head up. "What do you know of my friends, Khalid?"

"Oh, everyone knows you're in with the Forty Thieves. Except your father, that is. I wonder what he would say if he knew..."

"You don't know anything," Shahzad said firmly.

"Don't I, now? And I suppose that mark on your arm means nothing."

Shahzad instinctively jerked his arm to his stomach, then dropped it to his side. He didn't need to be jumping in fear because of a mere vizier! He was a prince, for goodness' sake!

"And I would assume that one of their name's is Tahir," Khalid went on.

Shahzad's eyes clouded over. "Tahir isn't my friend," he said, half in truth and half simply to deny what Khalid said. But the words were bitter on his tongue.

"Ah, so he's the one you're angry with, then? He doesn't trust you, does he? I bet none of them do, simply because you're the prince. It's awful isn't it? They should be respecting you more than anyone else, certainly more than Tahir." Khalid paused for a moment.

Shahzad did not argue with him.

"You know, you really shouldn't have to take that, Shahzad. You _are_ a prince after all. You don't have to put up with those who don't trust you or respect you. _I_ trust you."

Shahzad frowned at him. "What, you want me to join you? And all of your power-hungry political friends?!"

"We're all looking for the same thing," Khalid said simply. "Perhaps we could help each other."

"But we want it for different reasons," Shahzad replied.

"Do we now?" Khalid asked. "Do you really want to cure the plague, Shahzad? Or do you want respect?"

Shahzad studied him for a moment, then turned away, frowning deeply.

"Think about it," Khalid said, turning away.

* * *

I really want to apologize that this took so long to get up! I was swapping computers and then I was busy and then I went somewhere...I feel like I'm getting slower and slower at updating. But school will be out soon and then I'll have lots more time to write! So I'll try to update within a week or so this time. And I know this chapter wasn't particularly exciting or anything, but I hope you enjoyed it cause we're building up to the action! Review! 


	14. Chapter 14

Tahir walked down the hallway, gripping the handle of the woven basket. His hands were clammy and he could feel his pulse racing. Funny, he could stare death in the face without blinking, but her...she was a different matter entirely. 

When he saw how she was with Shahzad, he had determined that he had to make her fall in love with him. He wanted her to be happy, but Shahzad wasn't going to do that for her. Shahzad was...on the rebound. Tahir knew that Shahzad wouldn't fall in love with anyone else that quickly. Faiza and Shahzad had...something else. Xavia couldn't replace that, not that fast. Shahzad would only break her heart in the end.

He stopped suddenly and put his hand up to feel for the doorway. The hard stone was cold on his hand. He walked through. There was no sound, and he couldn't see her.

"Is it day or night?" her voice came suddenly, softly. She wasn't facing him; he could tell from the direction of her voice.

"Day," he answered.

"I haven't seen the sun since I came here," she said. "I miss it."

"Well—do you want to see it today?" Tahir asked.

Xavia turned then. He could hear her skirts swish on the floor. "Are you asking me to go on a picnic with you?" she asked after a moment, sounding puzzled.

"Actually, yes," he replied, holding up his basket. "I have plenty of food."

"Why?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Because I want to."

"Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?" she asked bluntly.

Tahir shifted his weight. Of course he was trying to make her fall in love with him. "Is it working?"

He could hear her, just breathing, not replying.

"No," came her response at least.

Well, he shouldn't have expected anything else. "Then you have nothing to be concerned about. You want to see the sun. I want to go on a picnic with you. It's that simple."

She drew a slow breath. "Will we have to ride camels?"

He laughed. "Of course not. Come on."

He did not hear her footsteps towards him. She hesitated still.

"Where will we go?" she asked. "Won't somebody see us?"

"I know a spot by the ocean, but far from the ports. Nobody goes there. We should be fine," Tahir replied.

She sighed slightly. "Alright," she finally agreed.

Her footsteps came lightly on the ground towards him. He turned and walked out the doorway and to the left. Once he was assured that Xavia was next to him, he started walking again.

"How are we going to get there?" Xavia questioned. "Walking?"

"No, we have a horse. From the royal stables, actually. They have far too many horses there; they don't even notice when we borrow one for a day or two."

Xavia laughed slightly. "I would think they would notice you taking them."

"No, the guards are all far too busy pretending to be busy. It's very easy."

"I see," she replied.

The floor sloped upwards. He had forgotten about it in his conversation with Xavia. He tripped and fell, but caught himself before falling flat on his face. Luckily, the basket was still in his hand, and he merely stood up again and brushed the dirt from himself.

Xavia was laughing at him. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He laughed slightly, feeling like a fool. "I'm fine," he replied, "although I think I've gotten all turned around now. Which way were we going?"

She giggled and grabbed his hand, pointing him in the proper direction.

There was a zap through their hands, as if bolts of lightning had gone through them. It was the fate bound touch, proving itself true once again. He could see her suddenly, see her face go white and then crimson, as she pulled her hand away from his forcibly, tugging it to her side.

"Well—let's go," she said hurriedly, starting to walk again, quickly away from him.

He sighed and followed after her.

"You can see me now, can't you?" she asked when he'd finally caught up.

"Yes."

She pursed her lips together and didn't look at him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Kissing you, back in your country. It never should have happened."

She looked at him for a moment, before turning her gaze to the hall ahead of them. "I'm sorry, too," she said after a moment.

Tahir nodded, though she wasn't looking. It didn't matter. He loved her, and she more or less wished she'd never met him. At least he could be with her and try to make her happy, until she left Arabia.

When they got to the end of the hall, he found the ladder and lifted the door up. He let Xavia go through first, and he followed her.

The sun was warm on his face, and it was bright—he could see it shining on Xavia, though everything else was just shades of grey. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned.

"Good luck," Jalal said, putting reins into his hand.

He could feel the tug of the horse on the end of the reins. Jalal's feet shuffled across the sand, then the door back into the pyramid swung open with a creek. It slammed back down moments later.

Tahir glanced at Xavia. She stood some distance from him, smiling up towards the sky. He watched her for a moment, before coiling the reins around his hand until he was standing next to the horse. He could hear it breathing. He lifted his hand and ran it down the sleek coat. It was smooth and warm.

"We'll have to ride together, since there's only one horse," he said to Xavia.

She glanced at him, then walked over and stood beside him.

Tahir set the basket upon the ground and let go of the reins. He put his hands around her waist, and lifted her up onto the horse. She obviously hadn't been expecting that, and he tried to ignore the rather distressed look on her face.

"Will you hold this?" he asked, picking up the picnic basket and handing it to her.

She took it carefully, not letting her fingers touch his.

He put his foot on the stirrup and swung up onto the horse's back, behind Xavia. He reached around her and grabbed the reins. She sat stiffly in front of him, looking very uncomfortable.

"How do you know where we're going?" she asked, turning slightly to look him in the eye.

"The wind. It's cool; there's a sea breeze coming in. We'll simply ride into it until we get to the sea."

She nodded and turned away from him.

He dug his knees into the sides of the horse and they were off on a gallop. They rode hard through the dunes, straight into the wind. He slowed down when he could hear the sea, and the waves moving in and out, always changing. He pulled the horse to a stop. Seagulls cried out from above them.

He climbed off the horse and offered a hand to Xavia, but she jumped down herself and began gazing around her. He could guess what she saw. The sand was golden, the waves were a deep aqua and they stretched out all the way to the cloudless sky. It was how everyone described it. He only wished he could see it for himself.

"It's so beautiful," Xavia said softly.

"I suppose it probably is," he replied rather dryly.

She glanced at him. "Have you ever seen it?"

He shook his head. "Apparently dreams and visions don't deem scenery an important enough thing to show me."

She smiled slightly and came towards him. "Hold out your hands," she said.

"Why?" Tahir asked, puzzled.

"Because I want you to see it, even though you can't see," she replied.

He dubiously did as she asked.

"Now close your eyes," she commanded.

"Why? I'm already blind."

"Because I don't want you to see me either. I might distract you from the real picture," she said with a teasing smile.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling ridiculous.

After a moment, he felt warm, dry sand falling onto his hands. It was soft and fine; most of it slipped through his fingers, though some stayed on his palms.

"This is the sand that's all around. It's bright and golden...but you can't see that, can you? It looks like...like home. And it feels like home, because it _is_ your home, Tahir. It's Arabia itself," Xavia said. "Now walk forward with me."

Tahir took a few steps forward. The sand became wet and stuck to his feet.

"Now stop," Xavia commanded.

A cool wave rushed up to him, then went on it's way up the shore past him. When it came back it tugged the sand out from under his feet, and pulled more on top of him, all of it sliding in closer to the sea.

"That's what the waves of the sea are like," Xavia said.

Suddenly cold water splashed upward, hitting him on the chest.

He could hear Xavia laugh as he frowned.

"And that's how the sea feels. It looks like...freedom. A never-ending horizon of places to go, chances, and life. The whole world is out there somewhere, just waiting," she said with passion. "You can open your eyes now if you want."

He opened them and met her gaze. She was standing up to her knees in the water, and smiling at him. He felt like if she just smiled at him like that every day, he would be completely happy, but he quickly pushed such ridiculous romantic notions out of his head. "Thank you for that, Xavia," he said. "It...it meant a lot to me."

She dipped her head downward. "I just wanted you to see it like I could."

"And I did." He watched her for a moment more. She was so...pretty and wonderful and everything he wanted. "Well, I suppose we should have our food now," he said.

She nodded and skipped back to the dry sand, where she'd left the basket.

He followed her and together they took the cloth from the basket and spread it out upon the ground, before sitting down on it. Then Tahir took the food from the basket. There was flat bread, dates, dried apricots, and pistachio nuts.

"Did you prepare all this yourself?" Xavia asked.

Tahir glanced at her. "Prepare it? More like take whatever I could find and put it in the basket."

She smiled. "Well, thank you for bringing me here. I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to come at first, but...it's nice to see the sky again."

He nodded. "I did feel bad about just locking you up in the pyramid like that."

They ate in silence for a few moments.

"So this...meeting tonight—do I get to come to it?"

"No, I'm afraid you can't," Tahir said. "Only the Forty Thieves are allowed to attend."

"But there aren't forty of you," Xavia said quietly.

Tahir felt his jaw tighten. "And you want to opt for Faiza's seat?" he asked. He wasn't entirely sure what he thought of that. He loved Xavia, but...it was Faiza's seat. "I suppose I could mention it to them," he said after a moment.

Xavia said nothing.

He listened to the soft lulling of the waves, in and out.

"Do you think Shahzad will come?" she asked, after a moment.

Tahir sighed. It always came back to Shahzad. Why? Shahzad was the one who had left, had walked out without even a word to her. But if she loved him...he would do what he could for her. "I don't know," he replied.

Behind them, sand was being kicked about—like someone walking on it. He whirled around, before realizing he wouldn't be able to see anybody.

"Xavia, is there someone there?" he asked in a low voice.

She glanced over. "Yes, it's—Afzal!"

Tahir relaxed. He didn't know the man personally, but the Thieves had been aided by him before. He was to be trusted.

"Afzal! What are you doing here?" Xavia exclaimed when the man had reached them.

"I saw you in my mind," he answered in a deep voice. "You're not the only ones who can see things, you know."

"Sir, it is a pleasure to meet you," Tahir spoke, turning towards the direction Xavia was facing, where he assumed Afzal was.

"And you must be Tahir. You have done great things leading the Forty Thieves, boy."

"Thank you, though I am afraid we are still some ways from attaining our goal."

"But you're moving towards it. That's what counts. You may not be so far as you think. But I did not come for small talk. I have news for you. Rashid is ill."

"The plague?" Tahir asked.

"Yes, and it's moving through him fast—much faster than it usually does. He started feeling ill four days ago. They thought it was just a minor fever, but yesterday he went to rest and didn't get up again. The doctors came and diagnosed it for sure. He looks like he's in the late stages already, though he shouldn't be for at least a month."

Tahir furrowed his brow. "If it's going that fast...how much longer will he survive it?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling it won't be very long," Afzal replied.

"How is Shahzad taking it?"

"I'm not sure. But another odd thing, he's been talking to Khalid a bit, and usually he has nothing to do with him. I'm not sure if it's truly anything to be concerned about, but...I thought you should know."

"You don't think—?! He wouldn't!" Xavia exclaimed.

Tahir glanced at her. Her green eyes were flashing, and her eyes were worried. She looked very distressed. For her sake, he certainly hoped Shahzad wouldn't do anything stupid. And for his own sake as well. He wanted to be friends with Shahzad again, not enemies.

"Shahzad wouldn't betray us! I know him!"

"Xavia, will you come on a walk with me—if that's alright with you?" Afzal asked.

"Go right ahead," Tahir replied.

Xavia stood up, pursing her lips, and went with Afzal.

* * *

"So, Xavia, are you still enjoying Arabia?" Afzal asked, when they had gone down the beach a ways.

"Well—yes—except for getting kidnapped and locked in a pyramid, that is," Xavia replied, glancing up at the tall man. It wasn't exactly the question she'd been expecting.

Afzal laughed slightly. "You still view it as a kidnapping?"

"Well, they _did_ kidnap me."

"And what do you think of your captors?"

"You mean Tahir?" Xavia asked. She sighed, and glanced at the blue ocean. It was calm and beautiful. Earlier she'd helped Tahir to see it, to understand what it was like, because she wanted him to know. Wanted him to share it with her. But before getting to the beach she'd been positively certain that she wanted nothing more to do with him. "He makes me uncomfortable," she finally answered. It was true—most of the time.

"Because you are fate bound, no doubt," Afzal replied.

She glanced up at him, and away from the sandy shoreline. "How do you know about everything?"

The older man laughed. "Not everything, Xavia, just some things."

"Well, I'll have you know that it makes for very awkward moments. He thinks he's in love with me."

"And what, you don't believe him?"

"He doesn't even know me," Xavia replied.

"But he's obviously making an effort to. And did you really have such a miserable time with him today?"

"What are you? My matchmaker? No, it wasn't miserable, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go all head over heels for him. It's just—he's so—" she really didn't know how to describe him. "I just don't want to be in love with him."

Afzal glanced at her, inclining his head. "That seems like an odd thing to say about the matter. If you really weren't falling in love with him, then there would be no reason to be worrying about it. But saying that you don't want to be in love with him makes it sound as though you're falling in love with him against your own will."

Xavia frowned. "I'm not falling in love with him! Not at all! The only reason I'm at all worried about it is that he told me that I would fall in love with him because of all this fate bound nonsense."

"Alright, alright. Just don't judge him so hard, Xavia. I'm sure you have some things in common, and he's gone to a great deal of trouble just for you."

"But he's—"

"Not Shahzad?" Afzal asked.

Xavia opened her mouth, then shut it.

"Shahzad is a troubled man, Xavia. He was in love with Faiza. He's still in love with Faiza, and he's heartbroken over it. Now his father is close to dying."

"I never said I was in love with Shahzad!"

"And neither did I. Just try to understand Tahir more, and don't blame him for you being fate bound to him. Yes, he might have kissed you, but being fate bound happens for a reason, it's not just an accident. It was meant to happen, even you don't fall in love with him."

Xavia sighed. "Fine, I'll...try to get along with him."

"Good," Afzal said with a smile.

* * *

A lot more stuff was supposed to happen in this chapter, but it got really long before I got there, so I guess it will have to wait. Hopefully this wasn't boring...and I know I was kind of slow getting it up again, sorry about that! I'll try to do better...Reviews would be nice. 


	15. Chapter 15

Sand. It was all there really was. Sand and sun...the desert. It was too harsh and grating, it wore out anyone who tried to make a life out of it. But he wouldn't have it any other way. It was one of the few things he seemed to have in common with his father, they both loved the desert. But Rashid loved it because it was gold and it was his country, his home. Shahzad...he didn't really know why he loved it. Maybe because it was there, and it never changed, never went away. It was one constant in an ever changing world. The desert would always be there, no matter what happened. 

He sighed and turned away from the edge of the roof, pacing across the bright marble that reflected the sun's rays. He'd been to see his father earlier. The man was taken with all the same symptoms that he'd seen on Faiza, just before her death. He was losing everyone he cared about. At least he still had Xavia, though he couldn't even see her.

"Shahzad, how are you today?"

Shahzad glanced towards the stairway. "I'm fine, Khalid."

The heavily bearded man nodded. "It's a pity your father isn't the same," he said with a sigh. "He's slipping, Shahzad."

"I know."

"Do you think you're ready to be the next sultan?" he asked.

Shahzad glanced at him, considering this. As a prince he really didn't do anything, and he knew little about being a sultan. "No," he finally replied.

"Yes, I can see why. If you can't even get respect from your friends, it would be hard to believe you could get it from an entire country," Khalid remarked.

Shahzad simply looked at him. He was beginning to get used to such comments, though he wasn't really sure what he thought about them. "What do you want from me, Khalid?" he asked after a moment.

The man smiled slightly. "I think you know what I want."

"You want me to betray my friends to get the Sands of Time for you."

"For _you_, Shahzad. You want respect, well, I'm sure everyone would respect you if you controlled the Sands of Time. Think, you could be the first sultan in ages to have the power of the Sands. Don't you want it?"

Shahzad clenched his jaw. "The Sands could cure my father."

"True, but where would that get you? In the exact same place you are now. Curing your father now won't stop him from dying later."

Shahzad seemed to cross the space between himself and Khalid in moments. Before he hardly knew what he was doing, his hand was at Khalid's throat, clenching it tightly. "Just what are you suggesting, Khalid? That I let my father die?"

The man choked slightly. "Do you really want to kill me, Shahzad? I want to help you, but if you can think of someone else who would do a better job, go ahead and get rid of me. But don't be upset when she chooses him."

"What?"

"Xavia. When your other friend, Tahir, I think his name is, finds the Sands first, _he'll_ cure your father, _he'll_, be the hero of Arabia. And who will you be? The prince who did nothing? Why would she want you?"

Shahzad frowned and twisted his hand, throwing Khalid against the ground.

He sprawled against the hard marble, but didn't seem phased. He merely stood up again and brushed himself off.

Shahzad glowered at him. "Why are you doing this?"

Khalid gave a thin lipped smile. "Because we're the same."

He shook his head angrily. "I'm not like you."

"Aren't you, now? All my life I've been second best, Shahzad. I started low and worked hard to be perfect, to get myself to where I am today. The grand vizier. Practically royal, you might say. But not quite. You'd think I'd be happy with my position, but I'm not. There is _nothing_ that makes him better than me, nothing that should be stopping me from being the sultan! I've worked a thousand times harder, and I'd be a thousand times better than him! But...he had the blood, and I didn't. So here we are."

"This is my father you're talking about, Khalid. You're on dangerous ground," Shahzad said.

Khalid snorted. "And what would you do to me? You could have killed me moments ago, but what did you do instead? You threw me to the ground like a coward. If you were half the man Tahir is you wouldn't have stood for such talk. Even Rashid, had he heard, would have locked me in the dungeons long ago for my treachery. But not you."

Shahzad shook his head angrily. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I thought that you wanted me to join you, Khalid. So why are you calling me a coward now?"

Khalid smiled. "I told you. We're the same. As much as I could try to be something else, I'm not. No people would ever look up to me like they look up to your father. I don't have the blood, no, but also I just don't have the authority he does, like Tahir does. But you, Shahzad, you could be more. You have the blood and you have the potential. I can see myself in you, but this time it's not so hopeless. You could be a great man, a great sultan. You just have to take the initiative."

Shahzad stared at the man. He did want to be a great sultan, but...betray Tahir? He didn't know if he could do it. Perhaps because he _was_ a coward. He looked away from Khalid and scowled out at the desert. The sun still shone on it. The sand sparkled. It certainly didn't care how he felt about anything. But he supposed that was how it should be. "What would I have to do?" he asked.

"Well, at the moment, information is the only thing that would really help."

"I'm going to a meeting tonight, but...that's all I'm going to tell you now. I'll...think about it," Shahzad said warily.

"Certainly, I'm not asking you to simply sign your life away to me this very moment," Khalid replied with a smirk.

* * *

Xavia sat against the stone wall, twisting a tendril of hair around her fingers. The Thieves were voting on whether she should be allowed to join their meeting or not. She did want to go, but she was a bit nervous of how she would be received. She wasn't one of the Forty Thieves, she wasn't even a native of Arabia. They might not appreciate her meddling in their affairs. It seemed like their meeting had already been going on for an awfully long time. 

There were footsteps across the ground.

Xavia stood up quickly, as Tahir entered.

His blue eyes were focused directly on her. "You can come," he said with a slight smile. Then he frowned. "You look worried."

"It's just...I'm not like you. Arabian, I mean. I'm not sure how they'll take it. By how many votes did I win by?"

Tahir looked uneasy. "Shahzad came in late and broke the tie," he admitted.

Xavia bit her lip. "So Shahzad did come?"

Tahir nodded. "He seems to have gotten over...last time. But there's no reason for them to treat you differently. You care about Arabia as much as the rest of us. And you don't look _that_ different. I mean, I have blue eyes, but nobody treats me any differently."

"Why _do_ you have blue eyes, Tahir?" Xavia questioned, gazing at his eyes. They stood out brightly against his dark hair and skin. It made him look very handsome, actually. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks and hoped he didn't notice.

"I have no idea," Tahir replied. "A mark of fate, perhaps," he said with a joking smile.

Xavia laughed slightly. "Maybe."

"Well, let's go. They'll wonder what's taking us so long," he said.

She nodded and followed him out the room.

They walked down the main hallway, filled with burning orange torches and into the Egyptian tomb room. The Forty Thieves were seated around the tomb-table and some against the wall, so there would be enough room for them all. The once spacious room looked crowded.

They all turned to look as she entered. They were all men; Faiza had been the only girl, and they all had black hair and tan skin. She was extremely aware of how pale her skin was, and how bright her hair was and in general how un-Arabian she looked. They all seemed to be scrutinizing her, looking her up and down, seeing if she was fit to be among them. She almost felt like turning the other way and running.

Tahir's hand was on her back, guiding her along.

She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Sit there," he said, indicating a vacant seat by the tomb, near the head of the table where he would be sitting.

Xavia nodded and hesitantly sat down. She looked at the table. Most of it was covered in hieroglyphs, but at the head there was a carving of the head of a man, a pharaoh. It was very intricate and covered in gilt. She'd sat at it before, but not when there was so many people in the room. She hadn't paid as much attention to it then. There was nothing in it, of course, but it was still slightly disconcerting to have the table looking like a pharaoh. She glanced up.

Shahzad was diagonal from her. He gave her a slight wave.

She smiled at him. She was glad he'd come.

"Well, now that we're _all _here," Tahir began, now in his seat, "we can get to the real issues at hand. Nadim has been translating the ancient texts taken from the palace libraries. There is significant evidence that there should be two arches in the desert. The first will lead to an ancient city, and the second, to the Sands of Time. They're made from sapphire and parts of the Sands, we believe. They'll stand out easily, and we wish to form an expedition to find them and hopefully cure Arabia of the plague for good. Now, before we vote on it, are there any questions?"

"How far away do you think it is?" someone asked from down the table.

Tahir turned towards Nadim, who straightened in his seat.

"Well, the first arch is in the middle of the desert, so some distance away, but I really don't think it would be _that_ far away, or else the Sands would have been forgotten all together," Nadim replied.

"I thought the Sands were lost from the Sultan's City. Why would they still be in a city?" Jalal asked.

"Well, from what I'm getting from the text, if I read it right, it would imply that not only the Sands of Time were lost, but the whole city was lost and had to be rebuilt. So the city we're in now would be the rebuilt version, of course," Nadim replied.

"How could they just lose a city?"

"I...don't know. The details were very sketchy, in all of the texts," Nadim answered, glancing at Tahir.

"If there really was a city out there, wouldn't somebody else have found it by now?"

"Maybe nobody ever looked," Nadim said quietly, sounding discouraged.

"What if the Sands were lost _from_ that city, and this is simply a telling of where they used to be?" someone else inquired.

"Well, then they won't be there," Tahir jumped in before Nadim could form a reply. "But that's why we have to go and see! We don't know what happened to the Sands of Time, nobody does, but we have to try. Arabia is sick, so many people are dying, every single day. Our population is dwindling. Arabians are becoming a dying race! The government isn't helping, the Royal Guard isn't helping, so who will? That's why the Thieves were formed, we were going to be the people who tried, the people who did something! We would stand up for Arabia, for the people, when no one else did! And now the people are being torn to pieces, ravaged by the Death Plague, but what have we done about it?! Think of your families and your friends! Your wives and your children! If we don't do something, they're all going to die! Now, will we make good on our promise to help, or will we simply watch as Arabia falls to pieces?"

A hush settled over the room.

Xavia glanced from the Thieves back to Tahir.

"Well, shall we vote?" he asked.

A murmur of assent went through the room.

"Alright, all for sending an expedition, raise your right hand," Tahir said, putting his own into the air.

Nadim's hand was the first up. Xavia raised her hand hesitantly, not entirely sure if she was actually allowed to vote. Shahzad raised his next, followed by Jalal. Slowly it seemed to sweep through the whole crowd, until there were forty hands raised high, all reaching upward, as if to catch the sky.

"Unanimous vote," Nadim announced, marking it down in the minutes.

Xavia glanced at Tahir with a smile.

He met her gaze, smiling back.

She felt like she was seeing him for the first time, as he really was. These were his people; they trusted him and respected him. He was their leader, and a good one.

Shahzad was looking between them with an odd expression.

Xavia caught his eye tried to smile at him.

He didn't smile back.

She bit her lip and looked down at the table again.

"Now we need to decide who will go on the expedition," Tahir was saying.

"Can't we all go?" someone asked.

"Uh—do you all _want _to go?"

A loud "Aye!" went up around the room.

"Someone needs to stay here to keep an eye on Khalid and his underlings," Jalal mentioned.

"I'll be here," Shahzad remarked dryly. "And if he tries anything tricky with me, I have the right to throw him in the dungeons, so I don't think it will be any trouble if you all leave."

The men laughed slightly.

"What about her?" the man next to Xavia asked, pointing a dirty finger at her.

"I'm coming with you," she replied to him boldly.

"But she's a girl," the man continued.

"Yes, I am a girl, sir," Xavia said hotly, "and I would appreciate it if you would talk to me directly! I might remind you that Faiza was a girl as well, but I don't believe you ever excluded her from anything." She glanced at Tahir.

He seemed to be trying not to laugh, as were several of the other men.

"And she sounds just like Faiza, too," someone muttered under their breath.

"Yes, she's coming," Tahir said. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't just leave her here by herself. Who knows how long we'll be gone."

The man grunted slightly and turned the other way.

"Alright, so it's settled, then," Tahir said. "We'll leave in, what do you think, two, three days?"

"Four," an older man said from down the table. "I don't know how I'm going to tell my wife that I'm leaving again and I've no idea how long I'll be gone. Give me four days with her, please."

"You don't have to come, if you don't want," Tahir said.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, sir," the man replied.

Tahir nodded. "Four then. And tell her you're doing it for Arabia. Is everyone else alright with four days?"

Another, "Aye!" went up and this time Xavia joined in with them. She was beginning to feel like she was one of them, one of the Forty Thieves. It sounded grand.

"Well, then the meeting is adjourned," Tahir said.

The Thieves soon began to disperse, scrambling out of their seats and heading for the door. Xavia watched them a moment, before rising herself and walking over to Tahir.

"Congratulations," she said with a smile. "It went well. You've got your expedition now."

"_We've_ got our expedition now. All of us," he replied, looking her in the eye.

Xavia smiled.

Shahzad approaching them. "Well, I must commend you," saud to Tahir. "It was a very successful meeting. Looks like you wouldn't have actually needed my vote."

Tahir smiled. "Yes, it went much better than I had expected. And I thank you for coming, after...well, you know. Last time."

Shahzad's eyes clouded over for a moment. "Yes, well, I had to support my best friend. And at least I could help Xavia be able to attend," he said, turning to her. "How did you like your first meeting?"

"It was nice. I liked it," Xavia replied.

"Yes, you say that now, but if you had been at some of our other meetings...you might not think so," Shahzad said with a slight smile.

Tahir gave a slight laugh. "Indeed, we had some...not so unanimous voting back then."

Shahzad glanced at him before returning his gaze to Xavia. "Perhaps you're good luck," he said quietly.

Xavia smiled, then bit her lip. She was very aware of how both Shahzad and Tahir were staring straight at her, and she really didn't know what to say to either of them.

"Well, if we're to leave in four days, we should be getting ready," Tahir spoke. "Somewhere we'll have to get thirty-nine horses or camels or...something, and we'll have to figure out how much rations we'll need...Xavia, could you help me?"

Xavia glanced at him, dipping her head slightly. "Of course," she said. Her eyes flicked to Shahzad. She smiled at him, rather wishing she could have talked to him more. She drew a breath and turned to walk away.

"Can't she stay with me?" Shahzad interrupted suddenly. "Just for a few minutes, Tahir, you'll have her for—who knows how long after this!"

Tahir turned. "Certainly," he said in a low voice. "Xavia?"

Xavia took a step towards Shahzad. "I'll meet you afterwards," she said, glancing at Tahir.

He nodded and turned away.

She watched him go before turning to Shahzad. "How are you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Better, now that I've seen you," he said. "How is Tahir treating you?"

"Good. I heard about your father..."

Shahzad scowled. "I don't want to talk about my father," he said forcefully, taking a step towards her.

"Alright, but...I feel bad leaving you, at a time like this," she said, gazing up into his dark eyes.

"Then don't leave."

"But—I have to go with Tahir. With any luck we'll be able to cure your father together."

Shahzad frowned. "Tahir," he spat. "He's stealing you away from me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you! And him! Off on your little adventure together to save Arabia! So he can be the hero with all the honor and you, his lady. They might as well take me off my throne and put the two of you on it. You'll forget all about me, just like everyone else."

"Shahzad, it's not like that," Xavia said.

"Isn't it? He took you from me to bring you here and now you're perfectly fine with going off into the desert for goodness knows how long with him! Why? What makes him so much better than me?!" he shouted.

Xavia took a step back, shaking her head.

Shahzad pressed forward. "Xavia, I—" Suddenly his arm was around her waist and his lips were pressing into hers aggressively.

Xavia didn't know whether to push him away or kiss him back. For a moment she simply let him kiss her, before she felt a small voice in her head. _No, not like this._ He'd been screaming at her moments before and now he was kissing her passionately. That wasn't the kind of relationship she wanted. She put her hands to his chest and shoved him away from her. "Shahzad...no."

He stared at her, with a wild look in his eye. He took another step towards her. "Xavia—"

"She said no, Shahzad."

They both glanced to the doorway. Tahir stood there.

"You want her yourself," Shahzad said. "That's why you took her from me in the first place, you just want to take everything I have, don't you?!"

"It's time for you to go, Shahzad," Tahir said calmly.

Shahzad smirked. "Fine, then. Just give me a moment." He walked to Xavia.

She stood her ground, shaking her head slightly.

"Xavia, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." he hung his head, seeming to suddenly realize what he'd done.

"Just go, Shahzad," she said, feeling her eyes start to fill with tears. She blinked them back. She didn't want him, or Tahir, to see her cry.

"But—I love you," he said softly.

She swallowed hard and didn't reply.

He nodded. "Goodbye," he said, turning. He glared at Tahir a moment as he headed out the door.

Xavia took in a sharp breath once he was gone, feeling the tears slide down her cheeks. She could still feel his lips, burning on hers. She didn't know what to make of him anymore. Before, they'd gotten along so well. What had happened to them? "I wish you'd never brought me here," she said to Tahir. "Everything I do with you takes me farther from him."

Tahir looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She bit her lip. "I'm going to bed," she said, walking away.

* * *

Shahzad walked the halls of the palace. It was dark now, save for the silvery moonlight flowing in the windows. And it was quiet. Everyone had gone to sleep. He clenched his fists, to keep his hands from shaking. Tahir was stealing her; he was sure of it now, and he couldn't afford to lose her anymore. He _needed_ her. 

"You're back," came a voice from the shadows. Khalid stepped into the moonlight. "Do you have any news for me?"

Shahzad regarded the older man. Could he really betray his best friend? He thought for a moment. Well, Tahir had more or less betrayed him already, by taking Xavia against his will. It would be more like taking revenge, not betraying him. "In four nights, at the pyramid, you can arrest the Forty Thieves. They'll be able to take us to the Sands, they can find them."

Khalid smiled darkly. "The pyramid, eh? Have to give them credit for that, I never would have thought of it."

Shahzad swallowed nervously. What if he was wrong? Tahir was still his best friend, even if they _were_ having a bit of a falling out lately.

"You won't regret this, Shahzad, I promise."

He only hoped Khalid was right.

* * *

This is my longest chapter yet: 3818 words! That's a lot for me...I hope you enjoyed it! And Shahzad fans...please don't kill me! Review! 


	16. Chapter 16

Xavia opened her eyes, waking from yet another dream. She'd had far too many of them throughout the night. Dreams of Shahzad, dreams of Tahir, and herself caught in the middle of them. Not so different from how it really was, she supposed. But none of it was clear like in some of her other dreams, though. They were just flashes, none of them lasting long enough for her to even begin to understand what they were about. 

She took a breath and closed her eyes again. After a moment she opened them, looking around. Her pillows and blankets were on the other side of the room, stacked together neatly. She hadn't felt like sleeping on them. Instead she was curled up against the wall, with her knees pulled to her chest and her hands under her chin.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned against the wall, her thoughts drifting back to last night and Shahzad. She didn't know what to think of him anymore. He said he loved her. Half of her wanted to be happy about that and simply say that everything was alright. He loved her, she loved him they could be happy together. But she knew it wasn't that simple. She wasn't entirely sure she believed him or that she even loved him back. What was love anyway? She'd liked it better when they were just friends, before she started to think things about him that she shouldn't and before Faiza died. Everything was simple then.

There was a slight cough from the hallway.

She glanced up. It was Tahir. "You can come in," she said.

"Good morning," he said, walking into the room. He was carrying two teacups with him. "Tea, I bought it at the market this morning," he explained. "The cups, however, were much harder to come by. I got them for a very unreasonable price from a man who got them from his friend's sister who was given them by her lover who got them on the docks from a sailor who stole them from a merchant ship he had a bit of a run-in with. Then when I bought them he tried to give me wooden cups instead; he didn't think I'd notice since I couldn't see them, but I felt them to be sure they were actually the teacups and then he gave them to me. I thought you might want a bit of your homeland."

Xavia smiled at the story. "Well, thank you. It was very thoughtful of you." She took a sip of the tea, then set the cup on the floor and looked at it. There were flowers painted on it in light pastels, just like the cups she'd drank out of a million times before with Father. Father...oh heavens, she missed him! Even with his odd ways of dealing with things and incessant worrying, she missed him. She loved him.

"Are you alright?" Tahir asked, gazing at her quizzically.

She glanced up at him. "I'll be fine. It's just...I miss home and with Shahzad and everything—" She swallowed and bit her lip.

Tahir nodded, then seemed to hesitate for a moment. "If you wanted...you _could_ go home. You could get on a ship this afternoon and—"

"No," she interrupted. "I want to stay here. I want to find the Sands of Time with you." She looked up at him, forcing a smile. She picked up the teacup and took a long drink from it, swallowing practically all that was left in it. She stood up. "So what are we doing today?"

"Well, if you're up to it—"

"Tahir, all he did was kiss me and tell me he loved me. And he yelled at me a bit as well, but the point is, I'm fine."

Tahir just watched her, with his incredibly blue eyes. He didn't look like he believed her. He understood her far too well.

She looked at the wall, the floor, anything but him.

"Xavia, look at me."

She sighed and looked him in the eye. "What do you want me to say, Tahir? Even if I'm not alright, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change Arabia, it doesn't change the Sands of Time, and it doesn't change us."

"Us?"

She squared her jaw. "You and me," she said slowly.

"Fine, just answer this one question. Do you love him?"

Xavia swallowed hard. "Please, don't ask me that, Tahir, anything but that."

He nodded and the tension melted away. "Well, we have lots of packing to do. Today we're tackling rations, probably the most difficult part. And since I can't see anything but you, would you assist me, Xavia?"

She nodded with a slight smile. "Of course."

* * *

"Shahzad, he wants to see you." 

Shahzad glanced up at Afzal, dropping the scroll he'd been trying to read on the floor. It hadn't made much sense to him anyway. He'd never been a scholar, never been proud of the huge library like his father had. Rashid took pride in the many scrolls, tablets, and parchments, even if he'd never read half of them. Shahzad could care less. He wasn't like his father. He sighed and rose from the red velvet pillow.

"Is it bad?" he asked.

Afzal hesitated for a moment.

"Just tell me! I'll see for myself anyways!" Shahzad half-shouted at the man.

Afzal nodded. "It's bad. This could be the last time you speak to him."

He clenched his fists. "Well, then let's go."

Afzal nodded.

They walked out the door, down the hallway filled with the bronze statues, of men atop their fine horses and holding out their long sabers, the great heroes of old. Rashid had loved those statues. Shahzad had never really looked at them.

They passed the east pool, filled with the blooming white lilies and their green pads lying flat on the still water. There were marble columns all around it, engraved with Arabian lettering. It was said to be the finest architecture in all of Arabia. Shahzad had never paid mind to architecture.

Finally they walked up the grand staircase and took the first door on the right, into the sultan's private apartments. The room was magnificent. The floor was covered in thick, crimson carpeting. The walls were lined with more statues, but these were all gold. There was a shining glass mirror on one wall, with beautiful gilded edges. Against the far wall was the bed, with the gauzy red and gold curtains drawn across it. The room was wonderful, but it carried the stench of death.

Shahzad glanced at Afzal.

"He wanted to see you alone," the man said, stepping out of the room.

Shahzad watched him go, then looked at the bed, trying to prepare himself for what he would find there. He didn't want to see his father die like Faiza had. He didn't know if he could take it. He took a deep breath.

"My son?" Rashid's voice came weakly from the bed.

Shahzad strode to the bed, thrusting the curtains out of the way. "Father," he said, with what he hoped sounded like much more optimism than he felt.

Rashid looked at him. His eyes were glazed over.

It was all Shahzad could do not to step away in disgust. The black welts were nearly covering his father's face and hands. The only clear parts of his skin were grey and appeared dried up. It stank of rotting flesh.

"Shahzad, you're here," he said faintly. He took a large breath afterward, as if the three words had exhausted him.

"Yes, I'm—I'm here. They said you called for me?"

Rashid nodded slightly, then moaned in pain. "I wanted—I—" He choked and there was blood on his face when he was done.

Shahzad frowned and wiped the blood away with his sleeve. He'd never seen anyone with the plague cough up blood before. It wasn't a known symptom.

"Shahzad, I—I love—" There was more choking.

Shahzad pursed his lips and dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. His eyes were filling with tears.

Rashid looked up at him. He looked confused. He blinked a few times and his eyes seemed to clear. He smiled slightly. "My son—you'll be a good sultan. Remember...Arabia." The coughing came again, harder, racking through the old sultan's entire body. Blood was covering his face now. There was choking and coughing, so much coughing.

Shahzad watched anxiously. He didn't know what to do.

The coughing stopped. Rashid was still, and the scarlet blood was all over his face and throat.

Shahzad watched his chest for breathing. It didn't move. He hung his head. Not this, not again! He couldn't be sultan, he wouldn't be a good one at all. His father obviously hadn't known him, hadn't known that he might have been able to save him, but betrayed his friends for power instead. His father didn't know that he'd kissed Xavia—hard—when she didn't want him to. His father didn't know that he blamed Tahir for Faiza's death. Faiza...oh, he missed her! She loved him, she knew him! And he loved her...so much. But she was dead, and so was his father! Everyone he loved was being taken away! If they had just found the Sands of Time earlier...his breath was coming hard and fast now. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

He looked at the blood on his father's face and frowned. The plague wasn't violent like that. It ate your flesh, it made you shut down, but it didn't make you die coughing up your own blood. He looked around the room. There was a glass bottle on the table by the bed. He picked it up and held it to his nose. He slammed it back down onto the table a moment later, his hands shaking.

It was a powerful poison, one that no one was _supposed_ to know how to make. It made the lungs bleed, you'd die choking on your own blood. Years ago, every bottle in Arabia was to supposed to have been found and everyone in possession of it executed. The bottles had been given to...the grand vizier. Khalid.

He bolted out the door and down the hall, not stopping as Afzal called out to him or when he nearly ran straight into the royal physician. He wouldn't talk to any of them, not until he'd made Khalid pay. He finally arrived at the door breathless and stepped inside.

Khalid looked up as he entered. The man was eating from a tray of deserts, sitting on a pile of pillows. "Oh, hello, Shahzad. How are you today?" he said pleasantly.

Shahzad stared. "You killed my father."

"Of course I did. I couldn't have you making rash decisions to use the Sands to cure the plague all of the sudden, could I?"

Shahzad's breathing came in rasps. Suddenly he was across the room and grabbing Khalid by the throat, throwing him to the floor. "I'm going to kill you!" he shouted.

"Are you, now? Because that really wouldn't be morally sound of you. Tahir wouldn't do it, not like this," Khalid said from the floor.

Shahzad continued on in rage. He fell on the floor next to the man and punched him hard in the chest, before grabbing his throat again.

"But as that doesn't seem to be dissuading you," Khalid said between breaths, "you might remember that I have the Royal Guard under my cotrol and in two nights they're going to be controlling Xavia."

"You can't tell them to do anything to her if you're dead," Shahzad said.

"Oh, but I already _have_ told them, in case you should react like this. And the orders can only be taken back by myself."

Shahzad threw the man down again, growling in anger.

Khalid rubbed his neck. "Good choice. Though I doubt you would have killed me anyhow."

Shahzad glared at him. "You told me I wouldn't regret helping you. Well, I do!"

"Shahzad, you're not looking at the big picture. _You're the sultan now_."

"And you're a murderer now! I'd rather have my father alive and not be the sultan than have him dead and be one! I don't know anything about being a sultan!"

"You'll learn. And with the Sands of Time in your possession, you can't go wrong. You'll be the most powerful man in the world. No one will be able to oppose you."

Shahzad swallowed. That _did_ sound good. And helpful. But what was he thinking?! The man had killed his father, for goodness sakes! He'd be likely to kill him off as well, as soon he got the Sands. "How do I know that you won't just do to me what you did to my father?"

Khalid shrugged. "I guess you'll have to take my word for it," he said with a thin smile.

"Well, I don't."

"Get a food taster, then. And stay healthy. Now, I want you to take this ring before we go through with our little plan," he said with a wink, taking a blue ring from his finger and handing it to Shahzad.

Shahzad took it and looked at it. It was an exact replica of the one Xavia found, with the sapphire and then the floating gold...things. "This looks like—"

"Yes, Xavia has the other ring. You should try to get it from her, it'll help you find the Sands. But you said they know how to find them, so I suppose it shouldn't matter too much."

Shahzad looked at the ring, then slipped it onto his finger.

Khalid smiled slightly. "So you are still going to go through with it, then? Good. I thought perhaps with your father..."

"This doesn't mean I won't have you killed as soon as I get back."

"Of course," Khalid said.

Shahzad eyed the man, not sure what to think. He was having civil conversations with the man who had murdered his father. It didn't seem right, and yet...he almost didn't care. He just felt sort of...numb all over. Like nothing really mattered, nothing was real. Maybe he was losing his mind, but if he was, it wasn't all that bad, at least nothing hurt as much now.

* * *

Xavia stood against the wall, trying to see over the heads of all the dark headed men in front of her. She was searching for Tahir or Nadim, or any of the Thieves she would recognize. She stood on her toes, tipping her head back to see farther. The Thieves were getting restless; they were ready to leave, but Tahir wasn't back yet. They were looking to her for answers, but she had none. 

"I think we've just become the most renown horse thieves in the world," Nadim said, suddenly stepping between the two tall men in front of her.

"Did you get them all, then?" Xavia asked with a smile, relieved that they were back.

Nadim nodded. "Thirty-nine of the finest horses in Arabia. They're waiting at the desert entrance with Jalal. We should be leaving any minute now."

"And Tahir?"

"At the front," Nadim replied.

"Alright, men...and Xavia," Tahir's voice came rippling over the crowd. "We have all of our horses now and everything is packed. Let's head out!"

"Aye!" came the cry back to him, loud and excited.

Xavia smiled, then glanced at Nadim. He was staring intensely at her hand. She glanced at it. The only remarkable thing about it was her ring. "Nadim?" she asked slowly. "Is everything alright?"

He grabbed her hand and stared at it. "Where did you get this ring?" he asked.

"I found it, in the desert, during the sandstorm. Why?"

"Look at it," he said, glancing into her eyes. "Sapphire on the outside, then in the middle it looks like—"

"Sand!" Xavia said, catching on to the implements. "But if it's—the arches?"

Nadim shook his head. "I mistranslated, this has got to be one of the rings, but the other..."

"Khalid. He tried to take it from me, and he acted like he knew something more about it. He has to have the other one!"

Nadim nodded, pursing his lips. "We have to find Tahir," he said.

Xavia scanned the room, nodding. The men were moving past them into the hall, walking to the desert entrance. She glanced at Nadim. They plunged into the crowd, moving against everyone else

"Tahir!" Nadim shouted when they finally found him, behind everyone else.

Tahir tilted his head, trying to find where they were.

Nadim grabbed his shoulder. "Tahir, look—oh, you can't look. That's just great," he said dryly

Xavia sighed and grabbed Tahir's hand. She felt the fate bound wave go between their hands and travel up her arm and suddenly Tahir was looking straight at her. She felt a blush rise up her neck as she thrust her hand at his face. "Can you see my ring?" she asked.

He nodded, gently taking her hand in his and looking at it. "It's...pretty," he said, looking confused.

She rolled her eyes. "That's not the point. It's one of the rings that are supposed to lead to the Sands of Time."

"What? I thought—"

"We were wrong. I didn't translate the text correctly," Nadim explained. "Clearly they actually _are_ rings that you wear. There's the sapphire on the outside and then the parts of the Sands in the middle."

"And Khalid has the other one, we're almost sure of it," Xavia added.

Tahir studied the ring a moment longer, before lifting his eyes to meet Xavia's. "So—we can't go then."

She and Nadim both nodded, though Tahir could only see her.

In that exact moment there was a loud crashing noise, as though the very walls of the pyramid were about to coed were about to come tumbling down.

Tahir whirled around to face the sound, as Xavia and Nadim took a step forward.

"That's coming from the city entrance," Tahir said. "No one comes in that way, not unless it's an emergency, but we're all here except for Shahzad, and he wouldn't make that much noise."

The crashing came again, loud and booming. It was followed by a clattering sound, something had fallen. Then footsteps.

"They're knocking the doors down," Nadim said in a hushed tone.

They were all still for a moment, before Tahir spoke again. "Nadim, go get the other men, tell them we've been found, and we'll have to fight."

Nadim nodded. "I'll run."

Xavia watched him rush down the dim hallway, before looking back to Tahir.

He turned to her with an intense look in his eye. "Xavia," he said forcefully, his hands on her shoulders. "I want you to run. Go down those halls, the ones that confuse you, the way is left, right, left, right and then straight on until you see the desert entrance. Get there as fast as you can, take a horse, and get out of here!"

Xavia bit her lip, looking into his blue eyes. "Tahir—"

"I'll find you, wherever you go. Just go—now!"

There were footsteps coming towards them, louder now. Xavia glanced towards them.

Captain Mohmad stepped into the room. He saw Tahir and looked amused. "I believe we've met before, blind man. I put that scar on your arm, if you don't remember."

Xavia looked at Tahir.

His eyes hadn't moved from her. "Run!" he half shouted at her, as he shoved her behind him. He pulled his saber from its sheath at his belt. The metal rang as he brought the blade high into the air, taking a step towards Mahmud.

Xavia stood behind him, feeling dazed.

"You realize that trying to resist us is completely futile, don't you?" Captain Mahmud asked. "There's what, thirty-nine of you altogether? And the entire Royal Guard against you? Most of them had to stay outside, there's not even enough room for them in here."

"I don't care," Tahir said, lunging forward and swinging his saber.

Mahmud blocked and their blades clashed together.

"Xavia!" Tahir shouted again, glancing back at her.

"She won't get anywhere. Some of the men went around. Shahzad told us where all the entrances are."

Xavia felt her face go white. Shahzad had betrayed them. No, he couldn't he—he wouldn't do that!

There was a roaring sound as the other Thieves tore past her, shouting their battle cries. They were met by the rest of the Royal Guard, coming through door. There were so many of them. There must have been at least ten men of the Royal Guard for every one Thief and those were just the ones inside! As the two sides met, there was the sound of clanging metal and the pushing and yelling of battle. The Royal Guard all looked the same, in their clean tan pants and black shirts, all fighting with ease. There were more than enough of them to go around. The Thieves, on the other hand, looked rag-tag, torn and dirtied, and there were far too few of them. They were all whirling around at every moment, on the lookout for another of the Royal Guard attacking from a different angle. It was complete chaos.

Xavia stood against the wall, just watching. She had no idea what to do. Tahir had told her to run, but that was before Mahmud had told them there were others at the other entrances. Maybe he was lying, but should she chance it?

"Xavia!"

She glanced up; Tahir was in front of her. Several men were coming up behind him. "Tahir!" she shouted a warning.

He turned and raised his saber, catching the blade just before it would have come crashing down on him. "There's a dagger in my belt," he said, as he continued fighting. "Do you see it?"

"Yes," she said, glancing at the small sheath tucked into his belt.

"Take it out and use it!"

She took a few steps closer to him and awkwardly pulled the dagger out by its handle while Tahir was still thrusting and blocking with his saber, not even facing her.

One of the Royal Guard saw her with the weapon and came towards her with a grisly smile on his face. "You think you can fight, too, pretty thing?"

Xavia ran at him, thrusting the knife into his chest before he had time to react. Her hands shook as she watched his eyes grow shocked, then roll back as he fell to the ground. She had just killed a man.

She was suddenly grabbed from behind and her arms were yanked backwards so she could not resist. She glanced around the room. Most of the Thieves were in the same position she was and the others were fighting a losing battle. A hush came over the room as the men stopped fighting.

"It's over," Captain Mahmud said, walking through the crowd of quiet men. "You, the Forty Thieves, are all under arrest." He stopped in front of Tahir, who was still holding his saber. He raised his own to his throat. "Drop your saber, blind man."

Tahir reluctantly let it fall to the floor.

"Now, let's go."

* * *

The dungeons were dark and filled with spiderwebs in all the corners. There were the orange, flickering torches on the walls, not so different from at the pyramid, but instead of lighting up the intricate hieroglyphs, they merely lit the cold, hard stone. There were strong bars on the one side of the wall and many men were locked up behind them. They shouted out to her, making coarse remarks as she walked past, but Xavia paid no attention. She walked with her back straight and her head held high, trying to maintain some of her dignity. She was no common criminal, and it wasn't her fault they'd never seen a woman get thrown in the dungeons before. They'd simply have to deal with it. She'd better not be locked up with t_hose_ men though. 

She didn't know what they'd done with Tahir. She'd seen them throw Nadim into a cell with some of the other Thieves. She was being led by one of the men from the Royal Guard, but she didn't know where they were taking her.

There was an iron forge in the corner and a man with a long scar down his cheek was standing at it. He smiled at her hideously. Before she realized what they intended, the man leading her had thrust her at the forge.

"What do you want with me?" Xavia asked nervously, glancing at the hot coals.

The man took a metal rod out of the fire. At the end of it there was a design. The Arabic number forty, the backwards three and the dot. The punishment and the mark of the Forty Thieves. And they were going to put it on her.

She felt her mouth drop open as the man grabbed her arm. "No, please, don't!"

"Are you one of the Forty Thieves?" he asked.

"Well, I—I suppose I am—but—but—"

"Then you have to be marked," he said simply.

Before she could utter another word, he twisted her arm and pressed the hot metal into her wrist.

She screamed. The pain was excruciating, the metal burned into her skin, hot—so hot. He took it away after a moment, but she could still feel it, pressing into her skin and flaming like fire. She gripped her arm with her other hand and looked at the bright red mark. It was precise on her skin, as though someone had written it there with a fine-tipped quill and ink.

The man who had brought her there grabbed her elbow and pulled her past the forge, down the hallway. They walked for a ways, before he stopped, took out his keys and unlocked the cell. He pushed her in and closed the door.

"Xavia!" Tahir jumped up from the ground. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She glanced at him for a moment, but didn't reply, just stared at the scorching mark on her arm.

He came closer to her, took her arm in his own hand "They did this to you?" he asked.

She nodded, feeling the tears slipping down her cheek. She swallowed hard, trying to stop crying.

Tahir's fingers moved up her arm, towards the blistering red mark. His hands were cool on her searing skin.

Xavia glanced up into his eyes. She was immensely glad he was there with her, and she wasn't alone. So glad it almost scared her.

"Xavia," he said her name softly. His voice was rough. It reminded her of when he kissed her in the rain. It seemed so long ago now.

It would be so easy to fall in love with him. But what in the world was she thinking, she wasn't falling in love with him and she wouldn't! It was just...everything hurt so much and she wanted him to take it away, but that wasn't love. She took a step back from him shaking her head, though he'd said nothing for her to disagree with. She bit her lip, then took a sharp breath, letting it out in something like a sob. "Why would he do this to us, Tahir? I know he was angry, but this?! I thought I loved him once, but now...I never wanted it to be like this, I never even wanted him to kiss me like he did and now how are we ever going to find the Sands of Time? And my arm, it hurts so much! And I—I miss home, I just want to go home! But no, not really, I just—it's not fair!"

Tahir was close to her now, just watching her. He was so...perfect. But not really. She'd thought of Shahzad like that and look where that had gotten her. She'd be better off just pushing him away. It was easier; she'd been doing it from the beginning.

He lifted his hand to her face, gently brushed the tears from it.

She took a step closer to him, then a step back again. "I don't love you!" she half shouted at him.

"I know," he said quietly.

She bit her lip, hard. Finally she took a step towards him. One more and she was in his arms, hugging him tightly.

He held her and she leaned against him and let herself cry.

"You don't have to love me, Xavia, I still love you."

She said nothing, but smiled slightly through her tears. She had needed him to say that, needed to know that _someone_ did, no matter what she thought of him.

* * *

This is a really long chapter...do you like them like this or should I keep them shorter? Anyway, review! 


	17. Chapter 17

Tahir awoke with a slight groan. He rolled over on the hard stone floor, onto his back and turned his head to the side. 

He could see Xavia, still asleep a few feet away from him, towards the other wall of the cell.

He watched her breathing; her chest slowly rose and fell in rhythm. Her reddish-gold hair had mostly escaped the ribbon she'd tied it in before they were arrested, and it fell over her face and down her waist. She was so beautiful, just lying there, the only thing he could see. He didn't mind being blind so much, not when he could see her like this. She looked like an angel in the surrounding darkness, his angel, his princess.

He was so in love with her. He'd thought he loved her before, from the visions, but this was more than that. He knew her now, really knew her, and she was...amazing. He loved her more than he'd thought could be possible. He'd be happy to just be with her forever.

Her eyes opened lazily, blinking a few times before finally settling on him. She seemed to smile slightly, then sat up quickly, looking alarmed, reminding him that she wasn't his to be with forever. He'd always love her, but he couldn't force her to love him, in the end it would have to be her decision, though their hug last night _had_ made him slightly more hopeful.

"Xavia, it's going to be alright," he tried to reassure her, sitting up.

She glanced at him. "How do you know? What if they...hang us or something?," she asked

"I highly doubt Shahzad would let them hang you, and not Rashid either. The sultan has to oversee hangings."

She sighed, moving to lean against the wall. "I know. I just...how long do you think they'll keep us in here?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I wish I knew."

She nodded, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, and played with the hem of her skirt with the other. She looked up at him suddenly. "Do you really think Shahzad...?"

Tahir nearly winced at the question. Well, she was bound to ask that sooner or later. "Xavia, no one else knew..."

She nodded quickly and stared back down at the floor, biting her lip.

Tahir watched her. Part of him wanted to kill Shahzad for what he'd done to her. What right did he have to lead her on, tell her that he loved her, and then betray them like this? It would have been one thing if it was just him, but Xavia, too! She'd done nothing to anger Shahzad. Of course, he could never really kill Shahzad, but he at least wanted some kind of explanation. And most of all, he just wanted his friend back, the way he had been. The man who he could tell anything to, who had dared him to eat ten of the hottest peppers in the marketplace in a row, the man who'd gone crazy over a black haired girl who he'd said winked at him as she stole figs from the stands.

Tahir hung his head. He missed Faiza. He missed Shahzad. But Faiza was gone, and she'd left both him and Shahzad changed. Everything had changed, and there was no going back.

He tensed. There were footsteps coming down the hall towards them.

Xavia sprang to her feet. "Shahzad," she breathed.

Tahir stood up as well, keeping his eye on Xavia, watching for her reaction. Her eyes moved up and down. She slipped the ring off her finger and put it in her pocket, wincing slightly as her skirt brushed the brand on her arm.

"You put them together?!" Shahzad's voice came roaring from outside of the cell.

"Sorry, sir," another man replied nervously, likely one of the Royal Guard.

"Well, open up the door!"

There was the sound of clanging metal, a key turning, then the heavy door swinging open.

"Xavia, are you alright?" Shahzad asked. He must have pulled her out of the cell; Tahir saw her lunge forward suddenly, gasping at the pain of her arm. "Did they do this to you?" Shahzad asked angrily. "I'm so sorry, Xavia. I didn't want her branded!"

"Sorry, sir, it was Khalid's orders."

Xavia was passively watching what was going on, then seemed to snap suddenly, and shoved Shahzad away from her. "How could you do this to us, Shahzad?!"

"I didn't want you to be—"

"This isn't about them branding me, Shahzad! It's about you, you betrayed us! You betrayed the Forty Thieves, Tahir, and—me!" She bit her lip, then looked up hard, like she was waiting for him to prove her wrong.

There was no reply.

She took a breath, nodded slightly, and stepped back into the cell, standing by Tahir. "I thought you were different, Shahzad."

Tahir turned his head to look at her. She held her head up, but he could tell she was fighting tears. He reached out and touched her hand. She glanced at him, before dropping her eyes downward.

"You're going to take me to the Sands of Time," Shahzad said. His voice was hard, showing no emotion. "It'll be you two, Nadim, and fifteen other Thieves, along with much of the Royal Guard so you won't be tempted to try anything. If I get the idea that you're not actually leading us to the Sands, the Thieves will slowly be killed, one at a time, until you do take me there."

Xavia gasped. "How could you do that?!" she exclaimed, looking horrified.

"Xavia...I didn't want to include you in this. I have nothing against you. In fact, I wanted you to...to be my wife."

Xavia just stared, her mouth slightly agape, and frowning slightly, before dropping her eyes down. She seemed to manage blushing while still looking completely horrified and confused.

"Shahzad, this is madness!" Tahir exclaimed, shocked. He'd known Shahzad was angry, but killing the Thieves? Going after the Sands for his own power? Since when had things gotten like this? It wasn't like Shahzad, not at all.

"That's 'your highness' to you, Tahir. I might have let it slip were I only a prince, but I must have addressing your sultan with respect."

"Sultan?" Tahir asked, confused.

"My father died two days ago. I'm the sultan now and with the Sands of Time I will become the most powerful sultan to ever rule Arabia."

"Shahzad, I'm so sorry," Tahir said. "But just because of him and because of Faiza, it doesn't mean you have to turn your back on the rest of the world! We're still here, Shahzad, we're your friends, we want to help you!"

"Help me?! What do you know about being a sultan, Tahir?" Shahzad lashed out at him. "What do you know about watching the girl you love die and then after just a few weeks your father, too? How could you possibly help me?!"

"Shahzad, I—"

"You can't help me, Tahir," Shahzad interrupted firmly, but more calmly now. "We leave tomorrow. Xavia, you'll come with me now."

She was grabbed and pulled out of the cell. "No, I don't want to come with you!" she shouted. "Tahir!"

Tahir watched her being dragged away. He tried to push forward, then felt the heavy door push him back, then lock in front of him. There was nothing he could do.

* * *

Xavia lay on the soft, velvety bed, watching the gauzy white curtains billow in the breeze that flowed through the open window. She was back in her room in the palace, clean and comfortable, which was something, she supposed, but she felt like her heart was being ripped to shreds. 

Shahzad was...losing his mind, it seemed like. His plan was cruel, she wouldn't have believed him capable of it, and at the same time he claimed he wanted to marry her! What in the world was he thinking?! Perhaps he was just shaken up with everything he'd been going through lately, that was what Tahir seemed to believe, and oh, she wished she could just talk to Tahir! She was so confused, about everything.

A knock sounded hard upon her door.

She glanced towards it. "Yes?"

"Xavia, it's Afzal."

She sprung off her bed and ran to open the door. As soon as it was open she pushed herself into the older man's warm embrace. "Afzal, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!" she exclaimed, pulling him into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"I'm glad to see you, too, safe and sound," he replied, smiling at her.

"Do you...know anything that's been going on?" she asked him, walking back to her bed to sit down.

"A little," he said, coming to stand beside her. "Tomorrow you go to find the Sands of Time with Shahzad, Tahir, and others, for Shahzad's own power."

Xavia nodded. "I don't know what's thinking, he's not—he's not like this! I mean, I know he gets angry and he does things without thinking, but...he should know more than anyone what the plague can do! Why would he do this?"

"I fear he has become a puppet of Khalid," Afzal replied. "And I think he's afraid, Xavia. Afraid of being sultan, without his father and without his friends."

"But he wouldn't have to be without us! He's the one that's pushing us away," Xavia said, feeling like her heart was going to burst open

"I know, but that's his way of dealing with it. He wants to take it out on someone."

"Well, what can we do? He has to be stopped, somehow!"

"There is no power in Arabia that can overrule the sultan. I'll do what I can to get the other Thieves out once you're gone, but...you'll be the ones with him, who have the best chance of finding a way to stop him."

Xavia frowned, pulling her knees to her chest. "Afzal...he—he told me he wants to marry me."

"Oh?"

She glanced at the old man. "I don't...trust him, anymore. Well, I mean, of course I don't trust him, he betrayed us all, but..."

"Do you love him?" Afzal asked.

She bit her lip, and rose from the bed, pacing around the room. She stopped at the window and looked out at the city. The adobe rooftops were aglow with the light of the setting sun. It was beautiful. And it made her want to cry. "I...I don't know. I suppose not, but...in a way...I want to talk to Tahir! And Nadim. We need to figure out what we're going to do...we don't really even know how to get to the Sands of Time."

"Well, it _would_ be possible for you to talk to them."

She spun around. "How?" she asked. "The Royal Guard..."

"There is more than one way around the palace, Xavia. And Rashid was a great friend of mine. He showed me some things that no one else knew of, not even Khalid." Afzal smiled at the memory, then a sad look came over his face.

"I'm sorry that he..."

"Yes, so am I. I'll miss him greatly. He was a great sultan, he loved Arabia so much..." he looked up at her, as if returning from far away, "let's save it for him, like he would have wanted."

Xavia nodded.

"Come on, I know a different way to the dungeons, a back door, you might say, but be sure to be as quiet as possible."

She nodded again and they opened the door, stepping softly into the hallway. They took a left and walked around the corner and down another hallway. They stopped in front of a statue of a great crimson dragon with its golden wings spread and its mouth open wide.

Afzal put his hand into the dragon's mouth and the wall on the other side of the room creaked slightly, then let out a grown before a section split, revealing a narrow hallway.

"Quick," Afzal whispered. "Someone could have heard that."

Xavia hurried over to the opening and inside of it. Inside it was so narrow, she couldn't have had more than a centimeter to either side of her arms.

Afzal was right behind her. There was another dragon statue, miniature to the first, hanging from the low ceiling. He put his hand into that one's mouth and the wall closed in behind them, leaving them in complete darkness.

"Afzal, where do we go?" Xavia whispered, feeling slightly scared of the small space and dark.

"Walk straight, feel along the wall so you don't miss a turn. We need to go right at the third turn."

She obeyed, running her hand along the stone wall, wishing very hard that she could see something, anything. Soon, she felt the first turn they could take. She walked past, relishing in the space she had before she got to the next straight section. They walked past one more turn, then took the right.

"At the end of this hall, there will be a wooden door. We'll go through it, down some stairs. That will take us into the dungeons. The guards_ should_ only be at the front entrance, but we'll have to make very little noise when we get there so they won't hear us and come looking."

"Alright."

They walked, and it seemed to Xavia that the hallway narrowed even more, though she knew it was probably just her imagination. It smelled musty and she could hear things, rats perhaps. She hoped the door was soon. Suddenly, she ran into it, banging into it with her head. She backed up, feeling for the handle. There was none.

"How do I open it, Afzal?"

"You have to just use the edge, there's no doorknob."

She ran her hand along the rough wood, until she found the edge. There was barely any space between it and the wall. She managed to get her fingernails into the tiny crack and pry it open. She put her foot forward, feeling for the first stair. It was far down and short. She stepped onto it nervously, keeping a hand on the wall. All the stairs were the same, narrow and short. She was a little afraid she'd fall down them, but she made her way down and found another door at the bottom. She glanced backward. She could just make out Afzal reaching upward, to another of the dragon statues.

She was blinded by light as the door opened, revealing one of the farther back hallways of the dungeons. Xavia pressed forward, taking a left. Nadim was in one of the first cells she saw, along with four other Thieves.

"Xavia!" he exclaimed on seeing her. "What are you doing here?"

"Shh!" she said, glancing backward.

Afzal had closed the doorway and was coming up behind her.

"You know more about the rings than anybody," she whispered, turning back to Nadim, coming close to the iron bars. "So how do they work? What should we do?"

"Well—I don't really know, I thought they were arches, remember?" he said, holding onto the bars. "But thinking about the texts again, I guess you'd have to be wearing both of them, and they would lead you to the Sands somehow."

"What if two different people are wearing them, but they both want to find the Sands?"

"I...I don't know! Maybe it would depend on your motives, maybe you'd just find them, maybe it wouldn't even work! Originally, they were worn by the destined, so if the two people were destined, I suppose they would find the Sands...maybe. I really would need the texts to figure any of it out!"

Xavia nodded hurriedly. "What do you think I should do with the ring I have?"

"Well, don't let Shahzad have it, that's for sure. Whether or not you should wear it or not, though...well, I suppose he would see it if you did, so you'd be best just leaving it alone. Not even having it would be the best, so he wouldn't be able to find it on you."

She nodded again and suddenly a light came into her eyes. "I'll give it to Tahir. I should go now, so nobody hears me. I'll...see you tomorrow, I guess."

Nadim nodded. "Go. And good luck."

She turned away from him, glancing at Afzal who was standing a few feet away. "Come on, it's this way to Tahir's cell," she said, turning to the left. They marched onward for a ways, around two corners, until they came to the cell she'd been in earlier.

He was lying on his back on the ground, with his arms under his head, staring unseeing at the ceiling.

"Tahir!" she whispered loudly.

He sat up suddenly and she saw that he had a long scratch on his cheek and one of his eyes was slightly bruised. She took a breath inward.

He moved toward the sound, standing up and walking towards her. "Xavia...is it you?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, it's me," she said, regaining her composure. She reached her arms through the bars, until she could reach him. She held onto his shoulders, then slid downward, until she had his hands in hers.

"Xavia, are you alright?" he asked. "I can't see you."

"I'm fine," she replied. "But what did they do to you?" she asked, taking one of her hands from his and reaching to touch the bruises around his eye.

"It's nothing," he said. "I've had worse. How's your arm?"

"A little better. But why did they beat you? Was it Shahzad?"

He shook his head. "No, not Shahzad himself, though...it was probably his order.."

"But why? We're leaving tomorrow, it doesn't make sense."

He got an uneasy look on his face.

"Well?"

"Because of you," he admitted. "When you stepped back to stand by me...Shahzad must have thought...must have been jealous, or something."

"They told you that?"

He nodded. "More or less."

She bit her lip, then noticed the back of his shirt was in tatters. "Tahir, turn around!" she said, letting her hands drop away from his.

He sighed and slowly turned.

She gasped at the sight. His skin was bloody and shredded, torn to pieces with whip marks. "How many...?"

"Fifty lashings," he said, turning towards her again. "I didn't want you to have to see it. I'm going to be fine. I'd go through it a million times if you'd just—" he stopped.

She glanced into his eyes, though he couldn't look back, then down at the floor.

"Never mind, I shouldn't have said that. Just don't think about it anymore, alright? I'm fine, you're fine, it's going to be fine. Now why are you here?"

"Afzal showed me another way to get down here, I wanted to see you," she replied, glancing backward at the man behind her. He was waiting patiently. She turned away again. "What are we going to do, Tahir?"

"We're going to lead Shahzad on a wild goose chase across the desert, while we figure that out."

"And when he starts killing off the Thieves?"

Tahir sighed. "We'll figure it out when we get there," he said.

She bit her lip. "But what if—what if they don't let us see each other?"

"I'll find a way, I promise you," he said softly.

She nodded. "Alright." There was silence for a moment, before she spoke again. "Shahzad has the other ring, and Nadim said I should make sure he doesn't get the one I have, so he can't find the Sands himself, so..." She found his hand again and lifted it up, taking the ring from her pocket. "So I wanted you to have it," she said, pushing it into his palm and closing his fingers over it. "I trust you," she said softly.

There were footsteps. They were far away still, but coming closer.

"Xavia, we need to go," Afzal said from behind her.

She glanced back at him, then to Tahir again, letting her hand linger on his.

"I can hear them," he said tensely. "They're not far, they can only be two, maybe three halls away. Go."

She bit her lip. "I wish...I wish I could stay with you." She watched for a moment longer, then dropped his hands and took her arms away from the bars, following Afzal back to the doorway. The wall closed in behind them just moments before they heard the footsteps pass them.

* * *

I kind of had some problems with the beginning/middle part of this chapter so...I'm not sure how good it is, but hopefully you liked it anyhow. Review! Oh and I edited one of the dream sequences in chapter...5, I think it was so I wouldn't be contradicting myself. So instead of a bearded man handing a ring to a dark, cloaked figure, it was just another figure or something like that. Anyway, nothing major or anything. 


	18. Chapter 18

The sun slowly climbed over the horizon, lighting the sand dunes in flairs of red light, flowing out in all directions. The closest dunes were still the same, grey-black color, but the farther ones were beginning to glimmer in the sunlight. Shahzad watched, remembering the times he'd watched the sunrise before, with his father when he was just a boy, when everything was simple, or with Tahir and Faiza. Things were beginning to complicate then, as he learned of the Sands, of what his father's advisors really wanted, of political intrigue, but things had still been _good._ Not like now.

The Royal Guard was preparing everything for the journey; the finest steeds would be there, their saddlebags packed with provisions, the Thieves shackled and under guard, his tent packed up as small as it could be, to take up as little space as possible. Everything would be ready to go, in perfect shape. They were just waiting for him, but he lingered still, watching the sunrise.

Xavia hated him. She hadn't talked to him at all, not since she'd been brought out of the dungeons. At dinner last night she'd just glared at him, though she still had a funny look on her face, like she might have forgiven him if he'd just explained it all, did _something_ to try and win her back. But he didn't. He had to much pride.

Tahir hated him, too, likely. Leastwise, he didn't see why he wouldn't. He _had_ betrayed him and the entire Forty Thieves that he stood for. He'd ruined everything Tahir had been trying to do for practically his whole life. The man had every right to hate him. And maybe he always had, secretly. He'd certainly never showed much respect for his position. The moment the thought was out, however, Shahzad knew it was wrong. He didn't believe that of Tahir, he couldn't. Tahir had been his friend; he'd only ever done the right thing. Tahir was a far better man than he was. That had been clear enough when he'd kissed Xavia, and Tahir was the one there to stop him, to rescue her.

_Don't be upset when she chooses him,_ Khalid's words seemed to echo through his mind. _When she chooses him._

And why wouldn't she? Tahir was there when he wasn't, Tahir was the one who was with her in the dungeons, and Tahir was the one she'd been living with for nearly the past month! Tahir would be her hero, no doubt of it, and he'd just be left in the dust. He clenched his fists; it just wasn't fair.

"Your highness?"

Shahzad turned quickly. Captain Mahmud was behind him, cleanshaven and in uniform. Shahzad glanced down at his rather bedraggled clothes. He hadn't slept well and was still in his clothes from yesterday, with his hair a tousled mess. He hadn't ven bothered to comb it when he got up, only allowing a brief talk with Khalid before straggling to the roof to watch the sunrise. "Yes, Captain?" he asked in a rather impatient tone, hoping he sounded authoritative.

"Everything is in order to go, Sir. Are you ready?"

Of course everything was ready to go. Everyone else was always ready, always more prepared. Everyone else was far better equipped to be sultan than he was. He sighed, glanced backwards at the sun. It looked less red now, more of an orangeish-yellow, and the sky was beginning to blue.

"Your highness?" the captain asked again.

Shahzad glanced at him.

The man was looking at him quizzically, likely wondering why his sultan was acting so strange. Rashid had never been slow to answer a question, or to shout out an order. Perhaps Shahzad should have paid more attention to how things were run, while he still could. But there was nothing that could be done of it now.

"Yes, of course, I'm ready," Shahzad spoke finally. He stood up straighter as he said so, preparing to walk forward, trying to look more regal.

Mahmud nodded. "Right this way, Sir." He spun on his heel and paced quickly across the white marble rooftop, sparkling slightly in the soft morning light.

Shahzad followed down the light, adobe staircase, into the courtyard below. He glanced over at the fountain with its crystal clear water spouting out, then falling back down, rippling along the surface. The bright orange fish still darted around, the same as they always had. At least there was one thing that hadn't changed.

They walked to the other end of the courtyard, through the gilded archway, with its intricate designs dotted artfully in a deeper, bronzer color. From there, they took the shortest route to the other end of the palace. They went swiftly through the halls of marble and gold and past the many pools afloat with white water lilies and lotuses of pure blue.

When they passed the huge chandelier, set high in what was said to be the middle of the palace, Shahzad had to stop. He remembered when the men had brought it there and, with much trouble, finally hung it up. His father had ordered it brought for him from halfway around the world. They didn't make such things in Arabia. It shimmered with a sort of silvery light, softer but purer looking than all the gold everywhere else in the palace. Rashid had thought it would make such a fine addition to his palace. _His_ palace now, Shahzad remembered. He had to stop dwelling on the past. He was the sultan now, and no memories of Rashid could change that.

Captain Mahmud had stopped at the end of the room, waiting for him.

He hurried to catch up to the man, trying not to look like a fool.

Finally they approached the far side of the palace, the desert side. It was furnished less lavishly than the front, as it was rarely seen by any guests. Whereas the front had been all gold and marble, the back was only bronze and stone, though every inch had still been laboriously designed, cut out, tested through fire and finally fitted together perfectly.

The doors leading out into the desert were huge and nearly a foot thick, made completely out of stone. They were the strongest doors of the palace, made to withstand any storm the desert would throw at them. A large arch graced the top of the doors, but the edges were straight against the wall.

They paused in front of the doors, as Captain Mahmud took his huge ring of keys from the black belt at his waist. They keys jingled, clanging against each other as Mahmud looked through them, searching for the right one. These doors were rarely opened and always kept locked, in case any intruders should come in from the desert, or criminals try to escape from the dungeons, which were just below them.

There was a call from behind. "Shahzad!"

He turned. It was Afzal; he was rushing down the dim staircase at the end of the hall. The old man was still at the palace; he hadn't left, even after the ceremonies for Rashid were over with. Shahzad didn't have the heart to tell him to leave, though Khalid had advised him to. The man was one of the best friends of his father, he couldn't simply turn him out.

"Shahzad, you should not be leaving your palace like this. This is your country, your people! You've been their sultan less than a week and you're already abandoning them for a long journey."

Shahzad said nothing for a moment. Afzal hadn't reprimanded him for what he was _doing _on his journey, hadn't judged him for it. He'd merely pointed out that he had a responsibility to his people, and for that Shahzad respected him all the more. "I...I have to go, Afzal."

"But with Khalid to rule in your place? You're practically handing your throne to him!"

Captain Mahmud glanced at Shahzad, as if asking if he wanted Afzal removed. He held the big, curved iron key in his hand, ready to slip it into the fitted lock in the center of the stone door.

Shahzad frowned, though did not acknowledge Captain Mahmud in any way. He could handle this himself. "That was not your place," Shahzad said icily to Afzal, his dark eyes flashing.

Afzal bowed his head, his long beard wagging. "I'm sorry, m'lord."

Shahzad turned away from him, frowning. "Open the door, Captain," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

The key turned in the lock, making a clicking sound, but the doors remained shut, far too heavy open without force. Mahmud stepped up to the doors, ready to push them open.

"Shahzad, you don't have to do this!" Afzal pleaded again.

Shahzad turned back around slowly. It was true; he _could_ call it all off, he was the sultan after all. He could let the Forty Thieves go and try to make amends. He could be friends with Tahir again and friends with Xavia; it could be just like before. But then he thought of Faiza, dying, with no one trying to save her, of Xavia, shoving him away and choosing to stand with Tahir, of Tahir, stealing her away from him, not trusting him, always having to be better than him. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. No, nothing could be like before. He wouldn't call off his journey; he'd go and he would make Tahir pay for what he'd lost.

He glanced at Afzal again, his eyes flaming. "No, I think I do."

The great doors opened finally, creaking and grinding against the ground with the weight of Captain Mahmud pushing them with all his strength. Light blasted into the room as if it were being shot at them, leaving them blinded momentarily.

Shahzad blinked as he looked back at Afzal, trying to push away the dark spots that flickered where the sun had been. "Goodbye, Afzal," he spoke firmly, then turned and stepped into the loose sand.

Captain Mahmud followed him, thrusting the doors shut behind them, letting them close in on Afzal, leaving him behind.

The rest of the party was waiting for them, all mounted on their steeds, where the sand dipped down, into a small basin of sorts, behind the palace. The fifteen Thieves to be used as threats were near the back, guarded and all strung together with strong iron chains on their feet and hands. They had enough room to maneuver, but no more than that. Tahir and Nadim were at the very front, save only for the Royal Guard that stayed there, making sure they didn't try to run. Xavia was to the side, apart from them all, surrounded by a circle of the Royal Guard, by his own instructions. Shahzad planned to ride with her himself, and he certainly didn't want Tahir interrupting that.

She turned her head suddenly, her gaze sweeping over the scenery, seemingly taking in everything at once. Her eyes locked onto his, and she gave him such a look of reproach that he nearly stopped walking, but she turned away as just as quickly.

He scowled and kept walking, faster now, down the sloping sand. Captain Mahmud was hurrying to keep up with him, but he paid no mind. He just kept walking. What right did she have to judge him? _She_ didn't know anything about being a sultan. _She_ didn't know the kind of pressure he was under. She simply didn't know anything about it! It didn't matter, though. He would prove her wrong, he would show what he was worth. He would be the greatest sultan of all time, and then she'd be sorry she was ever angry with him.

Reaching the bottom of the basin now, he walked past the Thieves, watching him with something like contempt written clearly across their faces, past the Royal Guard, all bowing to him with faces completely devoid of expression, past Xavia, who wouldn't even look at him, and to the very front of the column where one of the men was holding his horse for him.

He took the reins from the man, practically tearing them out of his hand and swung himself into the saddle, sitting tall and erect in it, hoping he looked like a leader. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Captain Mahmud mounting his own horse next to him. He sat there for a moment, glancing out at the dunes ahead, unsure of what to do. There was silence all around. They were waiting for him.

He swallowed and kicked his heels into the horse lightly, forcing it to prance over to Tahir and Nadim. "Well, are you ready to go?" he asked, somewhat condescendingly.

Nadim glanced uneasily at Tahir, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"We're ready, _your highness_," Tahir spoke evenly, matching Shahzad in tone.

Shahzad watched the man for a moment. His head was inclined toward him, but his eyes were off, staring past him, unseeing. Still, he looked dignified, commanding, too much so for a blind man. It unnerved him. "Good," he finally replied. "Lead the way."

Shahzad watched as the two men started off a circle of guards around them, into the golden desert. He squeezed his heels into the horse's belly and began to follow.

* * *

Xavia watched as the Royal Guard slowly began to raise the tent, for Shahzad to sleep in. It was striped, deep red and gold, and it stood tall, at least seven feet into the air. It looked grand, but the material was sheer, almost flimsy in the night breeze. 

She glanced around. Orange, flickering torches dotted the area, but they were dim and gave off little light. The stars shone brilliantly above them, though, glaring down with lustrous light. The torches were barely needed. To her left, she could make out the other Thieves, setting up their own bedrolls, making ready for the night. It made her curious as to where she would be sleeping, as she had been kept separate from them the entire day. She tried to take a step towards them, only to stop as a stony-faced guardsman stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

"You're not allowed over there, miss," he explained tonelessly.

She sighed. What did they really think she would do? Try to run away? It would be impossible, with the Royal Guard surrounding the camp, closing off the entire perimeter. More likely it was Shahzad's doing, meant to keep her away from Tahir. She squared her jaw and tried to suffice with just looking at the Thieves from where she stood. The fifteen of them had their feet unchained now, though their hands still remained bound together. Tahir and Nadim were still free, but under tight guard, with several guards standing close together on their desert side, with barely any space between them. Any escape they might try was blocked off.

She let her gaze rest on Tahir, watching him spread the thin blanket each of the Thieves had been provided with. Once he was finished he sat back, then turned his head in her direction. She could tell he could see her, at least for now.

He nodded slightly, barely even moving his head, so that it would be imperceptible to anyone but her. His eyes rested on her, and he gave her a winsome smile, but she could feel the melancholy that lay beneath.

She tried to smile back at him, but she had a feeling that it turned out rather broken looking. Eventually she gave up and sighed, wishing she could actually talk to him.

"My lady?"

She whirled around abruptly, to see who would address her so graciously when she was being treated as a criminal. It was Captain Mahmud. She frowned at him slightly; he'd been the one to arrest her, why the change now?

"The tent is ready, my lady."

"And what does that have to do with me?" she scoffed at him, feeling like being rebellious to these men who had barely allowed her to breathe for the entire day.

He ignored her tone, answering her courteously, "It is partitioned in half, my lady. My lord desired that you sleep in comfort." He held his arm out to her kindly, as if she were some lady of the court, rather than the prisoner she was.

She ignored his arm and merely started after the tent herself. She wouldn't trust him, not any of them, no matter how they acted for her.

He followed after her, even passing her to pull the billowing flap open to allow her to enter, then backing away from it himself.

She entered quietly, treading lightly on the loose sand. Torches lined the edges of the tent, placed just far enough away to be sure that they wouldn't catch the material on fire. A curtain was drawn closed over part of the tent, presumably where she would sleep, and Shahzad sat cross-legged on a pillow, staring at the ground, in the center of this section.

He looked up as she entered, his dark eyes looked dusky in the firelight. "Xavia," he spoke her name softly, gently in the darkness.

"Shahzad," she replied, staying near the entrance of the tent, just watching him, feeling the silence between them. She didn't know what to say to him, the way he'd been acting was just so...different from how she'd thought of him before, but now just sitting here, saying her name, she could almost imagine that he was the same as before, the way she'd wanted him to be.

He stared back at her silently, for a moment, before speaking again. "Please, sit," he said, beckoning to another pillow, across from him. "I have...dried apricots," he said, taking a basket she hadn't noticed before from behind him and holding it out to her.

She smiled slightly, staying where she was a second longer. The statement sounded slightly absurd, but then she'd been given very little food today and dried apricots sounded well enough. She moved towards the pillow and sat down on it gingerly, taking the basket from Shahzad.

She sat it beside her and took a few of the yellow-orange fruit, raising them to her lips and biting into them slowly, savoring the flavor.

"I...it's not all my fault, you know," Shahzad said, after a moment.

Xavia glanced at him, sitting up straighter. An apology, she might have accepted, but he was simply throwing off the blame. "Then whose fault is it, Shahzad?" she asked, perhaps a little too snappishly.

He sighed slightly. "Xavia...there are some things you just don't understand. I...I never meant to hurt you."

She rolled her eyes, waving the statement away. "It's gone a little beyond that, Shahzad! You're...you're not acting like you! I trusted you and now you're—you're betraying all your friends, taking the Sands of Time for your own power! How could you do that? You know what the plague can do! Think of your father, Shahzad, think of Faiza! Are you going to let that happen to the rest of Arabia? The Shahzad I knew wouldn't have done that."

His eyes darkened, and he seemed to tense. She could see the veins in his arms bulging out, as if they were ready to pop out at any moment. "I have to be the sultan of Arabia, Xavia! Can you try to accept that you couldn't possibly understand that? You're a princess, yes, but you told me yourself that in all likelihood you'll never have to rule. But me, I'm the sultan of Arabia! That's far bigger area than you're own country, and I—" his voice broke off, and he pursed his lips. His whole body seemed to go limp as he slouched downward. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he finished more quietly.

She felt sorry for him suddenly. He seemed lost and much more fragile than she'd thought of him before. Maybe his father's death, combined with Faiza's, had been a lot harder for him than it seemed. "Shahzad...you have friends! We want to help you, just...just not like this, Shahzad. You could save Arabia, you could be a hero to your people, if you just stop this madness."

"Friends? What friends? Tahir hates me, the Forty Thieves hate me, and how could they not, after this?" his voice was shaking, the tones came out high and then low, swinging back and forth. He let out something halfway between a laugh and a sob. "How could they not?" he repeated. His voice was high now, almost shrieking. He laughed some more, as tears rolled down his cheeks. "How could they not?"

"Shahzad..." Xavia started with a confused frown, not sure what to make of the scene.

"No!" he shouted suddenly, bolting onto his feet. "I came this far, I can't go back, I can never go back. It's too late for friends."

"It's never too late for friends," Xavia replied softly, getting onto her own feet. "You're not that far gone, Shahzad. Faiza would have wanted you to—" she stopped suddenly as Shahzad's face seemed to go white.

"Faiza," he replied, seeming to crumple to ground as he settled back onto his pillow, a forlorn look on his face. "Faiza...she's gone...she's gone," he said quietly. His eyes glistened with tears, the torches' light reflecting in them. He sobbed once, then laughed again. "She's gone." He shook his head. "She's gone, they're all gone. Faiza...Father...gone"

Xavia watched him, as he rocked back and forth on his knees, crying and laughing at once. He was in hysterics and she could feel her own eyes fill with tears as she watched. She stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder. "Shahzad, please..."

"No!" he stood up suddenly, his hand darting outward, and she saw it coming to collide with her skin, just before it slammed into her mouth. His knuckles and fingernails met with her lips, stinging with pain.

She closed her eyes as she felt warm blood trickle onto her tongue. It was a small cut, but it was there, inflicted from the very man she'd once thought she'd trusted most. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

He looked shocked himself, looking from her to his hand and back. "I..."

She shook her head slightly. She didn't want to hear an apology, not now, much less a broken explanation of, "I didn't mean to hurt you." To be sure, he'd been in hysterics, he hadn't _meant_ to hit her, but he'd still done it. Maybe she could forgive him later, but not now. "I...I'm going to go, Shahzad," she said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

She turned away from him and walked to the other side of the tent, pushing the curtain out of her way as she strode through it.

* * *

If I don't update within the next week, somebody please, just smack me. Anyway this chapter is kind of a transition chapter, not too interesting, maybe that's what made it take so long for me to write it...anyway please review! 


	19. Chapter 19

Well, I realize I was a bit later than I meant to be with this chapter. (Smacks self) But at least it wasn't _too_ much later, right? Last week I wasn't able to use the computer much and then I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter for some reason. I'm not sure if it even turned out very well...but at least I got it written. And I kind of spent some time mapping out my plot so I have a clearer idea of where I'm going with it. We actually still have quite a ways to go, though we are nearing the end. Anyway, enough rambling from me, read the chapter! (Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated!)

* * *

Tahir yawned, feeling the midday sun beating down on his face. He was tired and hungry, but most of all hot. They'd been traveling for nearly a week now, and the desert was beginning to take a toll on them all. In the city there had at least been shade, and water at hand whenever it was needed. Now their drinking, eating, and sleeping were all regulated according to Shahzad and the Royal Guard. In Tahir's opinion, they weren't getting nearly enough water. He was always thirsty; they _all_ were and the heat was enough to drive one mad. He hoped Xavia was faring better. 

"Tahir," Nadim's voice came low next to him, on his left side. "Those rocks, they look familiar."

"What rocks?" he asked.

"The ones we're riding past. They're sort of...reddish colored. Well, actually most of the rocks we've past have been reddish colored, but...I swear they're positioned exactly the same as the ones we rode past two days ago."

Tahir frowned. He was afraid of that. They had no real way of knowing where they were going, or if they were going anywhere at all. They could simply be going in circles forever and never even realize it. But someone was bound to notice it, eventually. He was afraid of what would happen when they did. "Does anyone else seem to be noticing?" he asked under his breath.

He could hear Nadim's breathing switch directions and the material of his clothes slid around as he shifted around in his saddle. "I don't know. I don't think so, not yet anyway," he said at last.

"Well, just act normal. And try to keep going in a straight line this time."

"Aye."

For a moment all was silent, save for the sound of the horses' hooves treading lightly on the desert sand. Tahir listened to the rhythmic sound of it and felt himself leaning forward in the saddle, nearly falling asleep sitting up. They'd traveled long into the night yesterday and started moving at first light today. With the minimal water they were getting, dehydration was inevitable, and enough to put them all to sleep. It was not a good condition to be traveling under.

"I've seen those rocks before! We've been here! Two days ago, we rested in this exact spot!" Shahzad's voice came loud and grating over the plain to meet them.

Tahir exhaled, dipping his head downward. He pulled backward on the reins of his horse, feeling it resist for a moment, then finally stopped moving. He could hear the shuffle of Nadim's horse coming to a stop as well, right beside him.

"We've been here," Shahzad repeated. His horse came closer to them, it's hooves clapping into the sand as it pranced towards them.

Tahir turned his horse to the right, so he'd be facing the man.

"No, we haven't," Nadim was saying next to him. "I'm completely sure I've never seen those rocks before in my entire life."

Shahzad ignored him. "Tahir?" he asked.

Tahir was silent. He knew there was nothing he could say to convince Shahzad otherwise, if he'd already made up his mind that they were leading them on. He'd always been slightly stubborn, but now...there was no chance in the world he'd let it go as coincidence.

"He can't see!" Nadim argued on his behalf. "How would he know?"

Shahzad was silent. Tahir could hear his breathing, even and defiant. He was staring at him, he could feel it. "We're going in circles, aren't we?"

Nadim turned. Tahir could feel his breathing, hitting the side of his face, rough and uneven, nervous. He was waiting for him to do something, say something. They all were, they depended on him. But there was nothing he could say. He knew Shahzad, probably better than all of them, and Shahzad knew him. They both understood too well how the other thought.

"Aren't we?" Shahzad repeated, more quietly, but much more intensely than before.

"What could I say to dissuade you, Shahzad, when you've already decided I'm your enemy?"

Shahzad seemed to start, unnerved; he likely wasn't expecting that kind of an answer. He'd expected defiance, no doubt, some desperate plea that they hadn't been here before, they'd never been here. They both knew it would be a lie. There was no use in pretending now.

"I...see," Shahzad said at last. "Well, then. You remember what I told you. Captain Mahmud, kill one of them."

"Shahzad, no!" Tahir shouted, as he heard a horse move, bolting to the left and the chains of the fifteen Thieves clinking, as they moved in discomfort, each fearing their own death, no doubt. He couldn't let Shahzad kill one of them! These were his men, his friends, they trusted him! Jalal was over there, along with others he knew, the people he'd grown up with. He couldn't allow his trust to be repaid with death like this!

"And why should I not, Tahir?" Shahzad asked. "I told you this would happen, I warned you. You had a choice, and if you'd made it the right one this never would have happened. Maybe you'll learn your lesson now."

Tahir tensed, hearing a saber being lifted from its sheath, the metal clanging. The chains jingled, the metal clattering against itself. One of the Thieves was unlocked, he heard clicking, a key turned, and the chains falling away with a clamor. A horse was being led towards him.

"What's your name?" Captain Mahmud asked.

He heard the man answer, "Dawud, but please, don't kill me! I have a wife at home, children!"

Tahir hung his head, closing his eyes. He wanted to block it all out. It was the older man at the meeting, the one who had wanted to stay an extra day, so he could be with his wife. Now he would never see her again. And it was his fault.

"Now you know which man you sentenced to his death, Tahir!" Shahzad said. "Do it, Captain."

"Shahzad, stop! I have—" Tahir interrupted. He put his hand in his pocket, feeling the ring there, cold against his skin. If he gave it to Shahzad, maybe...

"What is it?" Shahzad asked dully, annoyed.

Tahir hesitated, breathing hard. Was one man's life worth giving up the Sands of Time? Shahzad would be corrupted by the power; he was already corrupted by it. With the Sands of Time there would be nothing he couldn't do. Tahir didn't know what he should do. He had to choose fast. If he could manage to spill the the Sands, he'd save millions of lives, but that would meaning losing this man now. If he saved this man...he might never be able to cure Arabia.

"Just kill him," Shahzad said to Mahmud, interrupting Tahir's thoughts.

"Yes, sir."

The man's breathing came hard and ragged, anxious. The air seemed still, slow, as if waiting for it to happen, waiting for the man's life to end.

Tahir thought desperately. He needed to act—now!

The saber swung, splitting into the air.

There was a sound, so quiet that it was likely no one else had heard it. But Tahir heard it. It was the sound of thrusting sabers and tearing skin, metal ripping into it, then silence. Death. The man's breathing had stopped. He was gone. There was an audible gasp, likely Xavia, then silence all around.

Tahir said nothing, hearing his own breathing, feeling his arms shaking. He shouldn't have let it happen, the man had trusted him. He'd put his life in Tahir's hands, trusting him to bring him home again, and he'd let him down. And Shahzad...how could he have done it? His old friend, the man he knew, wouldn't have done it. He was better than this!

"Get rid of the body," Shahzad's voice echoed in the silence. It was quiet, shaking, with grief, shock, something. Tahir couldn't name it. "We'll rest here, for the night. We could all use a break," he went on.

Tahir sighed, and swung out of the saddle. It was led away from him, by one of the Royal Guard. As soon as it was gone he simply sat down, falling on the ground where he stood.

Nadim knelt next to him. "There was nothing you could have done," he said sympathetically, putting a hand on Tahir's arm.

Tahir nodded. "I know, but..." he shook his head. "I guess I didn't think he would really do it. I...don't know what to do now. I can't let that happen again. That man didn't deserve to die."

"Aye," Nadim replied. "But what else can we do? Unless we could get the ring from Shahzad..."

Tahir shook his head. "There's no way, with him wearing it all the time."

"You could get out of here," Nadim said after a moment. "Make a run for it, try to find another way to the Sands."

"_What_ other way?"

He heard Nadim sigh. "I don't know. But you could take Xavia with you. This is no life for a lady. If you could have seen her today...she didn't look good, Tahir."

He rested his head on his arm. "I wish I could see her," he said. "I promised her I'd find a way, but...I don't see how, now."

"Make a run for it," Nadim said.

Tahir raised an eyebrow towards him. "How? The guards are all around, I wouldn't even get near her."

"This is the minimum amount of guards we're ever going to have with us. I'll come part of the way, we'll say we're just walking. Then you can get into the tent and see her. You'll only have a few moments, but...you'll see her at least."

Tahir nodded. The plan was mad and practically asking for a beating, but if it got him to Xavia, he'd try it. "Let's do it," he said.

"Right. Get up," Nadim said.

Tahir rose to his feet, hearing Nadim do the same. They started forward. A guard stepped in front of them, his boots crunching into the sand.

"We're just walking, just walking," Nadim said next to him. "Thought we would exercise our legs a bit, been riding too long, you know?"

Tahir smiled in the direction of the man, who eventually stepped back, letting them pass.

They continued on.

"They're all eying us rather testily, but they don't seem to be moving to stop us at all."

"Good," Tahir replied. "Though I'm pretty sure they're going to see me enter the tent."

"Yes, no doubt about it. You might want to pick out what you're going to say to her ahead of time. You'll probably have...three seconds, at the most."

Tahir raised his eyebrows. "Three seconds? And what exactly could I say to her in three seconds?"

"I don't know. 'Get Shahzad's ring.' 'Run away.' 'Will you marry me?'," Nadim offered.

"What?!"

"Hey, it was just a suggestion. Now's as good a time as any to ask her."

"Not exactly." Tahir replied, shaking his head.

"Well, suit yourself," Nadim said. "Alright we're coming alongside the tent. There aren't any guards around it right now, but they're...well, pretty much surrounding us. You're going to bolt to your left in...5...4...3...2...1, now go!"

Tahir dashed to the left, trying to run as fast as he could through the loose sand that rolled beneath his feet. He felt himself slide through some smooth material. He paused, unsure of where he was.

"Tahir!" Xavia exclaimed. He could hear her rising to her feet off of something, some material.

He hesitated, trying to tell which direction her voice was coming from.

He felt her hand on his and then he could see her. She looked tired, with dark circles beneath her somewhat red, bloodshot-looking eyes. "Xavia," he breathed. "How are you? Are you alright here?"

She nodded quickly. "I'm fine, but—"

"You should try to get out of here somehow!" he interrupted, hearing shouts from behind him. "Before he hurts you, or get the ring from him. We have to—"

She watched him, looking slightly confused, then glanced behind him, her eyes growing wide. "Tahir, they're—"

There were footsteps behind him along with more shouting and scuffling. Men burst into the tent behind him. They grabbed his arms, pulling them behind him and trying to drag him out of the tent. He resisted as well as he could, planting his feet firmly into the ground. "I love you," he said. "Don't forget."

She nodded, her brows wrinkled in a slight frown as she opened her mouth to speak.

They pulled him out of the tent before she could say anything.

* * *

Xavia watched the men dragging Tahir out of the tent, feeling very confused. She wasn't entire sure why he had come to see her at all, especially as it looked very ill planned, and he had very little of real importance to say to her. She certainly wasn't going to just run away. She was still going to find the Sands of Time and cure Arabia, it just...might take longer than she'd hoped. And she knew she should get the ring from Shahzad, she just wasn't sure how. After a moment she strode to the entrance of the tent, pulled the flap out of her way and marched outside into the sun. 

Tahir was in the center of the camp now, on his knees in the sand, surrounded by a small circle of the Royal Guard. They'd ripped off the back of his shirt and were readying a brown, leather whip. She could see the scars, still red on his skin from when they'd beaten him before they left the palace. Beating him again, so soon...it couldn't be good for him.

She started running towards them, pushing past anyone who tried to stop her. She felt a hand on her wrist, gripping tightly and pulling her back. She turned, glaring at whoever it was.

Shahzad, of course. "Xavia, you can't stop them," he said nonchalantly. "He broke the rules and he has to pay for it. Forget about it."

"Forget about it?" she asked incredulously. How could he be saying this? "Call back the orders, Shahzad, he's your best friend!"

Shahzad shook his head. "Not anymore, he's not."

Xavia narrowed her eyes. She knew that part of Shahzad's actions were...out of grief, but she just wasn't in the mood for reasoning right now. "Fine, then forget about me!" She tore her arm out of his grip, feeling his fingers sliding away from her skin. She kept going, faster now. "Stop!" she shouted, as Captain Mahmud raised the whip. She ran, as fast as she could, and flung herself down in the sand, in front of Tahir's back.

The whip came down on her face, across her forehead, between her eyes and down her cheek. It wasn't as fast as it would have been; the captain had begun to hesitate, but it had been too late for that. It stung horribly.

"Xavia, are you alright?" Tahir asked in a whisper, behind her.

"I'm fine," she said under her breath, forcing back the tears that had sprung unbidden into her eyes. She reached a finger to her face, to touch the burning skin. At least it wasn't bleeding. She glanced upward.

Captain Mahmud was staring at her, looking horrified that he'd whipped her, instead of Tahir. Shahzad was running towards them, frowning deeply.

"What on earth is going on here?" he yelled, looking from her to Captain Mahmud.

Captain Mahmud glanced at him worriedly. "I—she stepped in front, right before I brought the whip down, Sir. I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Captain," Shahzad said. "But Xavia, what do you think you're doing?!" He grabbed her arm and yanked her harshly off of the ground and pulled her to her feet.

She jerked her arm out of his and stood next to him, brushing the sand off of her skirt. "If you're going to whip him, whip me," she said simply.

Shahzad glared at her, then at Tahir. His eyes darkened and he breathed hard, seething with anger. "I won't whip either of you, then!" he said. "But as punishment for this, we're going to pack up and keep traveling—all through the night," he said slowly. "And none of you_ Thieves_," he spat the word, seemingly forgetting that he had been one of them himself, "will have any water until tomorrow morning. Maybe then you'll learn not to anger your sultan"

Xavia glanced at Tahir, who shrugged slightly, glancing at her. "Fine," she said, meeting Shahzad's eye determinedly.

He glared at her icily. "Good," he said, raising his brow slightly and inclining his head. "Men, get ready!" he shouted after a moment.

The Royal Guard started moving quickly. They left Tahir and began packing up everything they'd unpacked just moments before. Shahzad stayed for a moment, scowling at them. He left soon, though, marching away, through the sand to oversee his orders.

"You didn't have to do that," Tahir said, glancing at her, after Shahzad had gone.

Xavia looked downward at him. "I know," she said. "But...I wanted to. I couldn't just stand there watching them beat you, again. And still because of me."

"Well, thank you," Tahir replied, gazing up at her with a slight smile.

She nodded slightly. "I—"

"Miss," said a man next to her, cutting into the conversation.

She turned to look at him in annoyance, rolling her eyes at him for interrupting. The Royal Guard seemed to have the worst timing!

"You have to come with us now," he said.

Xavia nodded, then glanced back at Tahir. She should have known they wouldn't let her talk to him, not really. They never would.

His gaze met hers with a sympathetic smile. "Go," he said quietly. "We'll still find the Sands of Time and cure Arabia, just...later then we'd hoped.

She laughed slightly, remembering that she had thought the same thing, just moments ago. "You know, I was just thinking that," she replied. She smiled at him, then walked away with the men, letting them lead her back to her own horse.


	20. Chapter 20

Xavia spurred her horse to the left slightly, carefully watching the faces of the guards for any sign of what they thought of this. They merely adjusted themselves to her new positioning with a seemingly careless ease. The guard on her left side was riding nearly right next to Tahir now, but he barely seemed to notice. Maybe they were all just too tired to care anymore; it_ was _sunrise now and none of them had slept at all. 

At any rate, she was enjoying their nonchalance immensely. She was getting closer to Tahir and Nadim than she'd ever been able to while they were riding, and no one had bothered to stop her yet. She could probably even talk to them now if she wanted to; they'd be able to hear her, but she wasn't sure how the Royal Guard would react, or more to the point, how Shahzad would react.

For the moment, she simply looked at them over the heads of her guards and through the spaces in between them. She glimpsed Tahir, leaning over his saddle with his eyes half-closed. Nadim looked drowsy as well, though at the moment he was making an effort to look at least somewhat awake, sitting up straight and glancing around, though he was slightly bleary-eyed and his mouth was agape. He caught a glance of her and seemed to wake up more, blinking a few times and raising a questioning brow at how close she was to them.

She smiled at him mischievously, then glanced slyly at the guards.

Nadim grinned back at her. "Hello, Xavia," he called out to her over the short distance between them.

She raised her eyebrows at him and scanned the guards nervously. They weren't doing anything, just riding as stoically as ever. Even Shahzad, across the way to her right didn't move from his stiff riding position. "Hello, Nadim," she replied at last, when she was almost certain that no one would care.

"This is getting kind of boring isn't it?" Nadim went on, glancing at Tahir's sluggish form next to him. "Wake up!" he exclaimed, reaching his fist out and punching his friend lightly in the arm.

Tahir jerked upright in his saddle, frowning slightly and inclining his head. "What's going on?" he asked groggily.

Nadim sighed and rolled his eyes at Tahir. "See what I mean?" he affirmed, looking back at Xavia. "Everyone's asleep!"

She laughed slightly as Tahir turned his head towards her, though his eyes were still off. She was enjoying this. "Yes, it is getting boring, Nadim."

"I'm awake," Tahir defended himself, straightening and stretching his arms out in front of him.

"Of course you are," Nadim replied, patting Tahir on the back and nearly falling sideways out of his saddle in the process. "Whoa, nobody saw that," he said, righting himself on top of the big, black horse once again.

"Saw what?" Tahir asked, confused.

Nadim answered, "Exactly, Tahir. That was the right answer."

Xavia laughed at their antics. "So what shall we do to relieve our boredom, Nadim?" she asked after a moment, feeling brave, as the Royal Guard had still made no move to stop their conversation.

"Well, we could...play a game. How about the...thinking game," Nadim replied.

"The thinking game?" Xavia asked, raising a slightly confused brow at him. It sounded like an odd name for a game. Actually, the idea of playing a game at all when they were prisoners and surrounded by guards was all very odd, but she decided that she liked it. At any rate, it was definitely brightening her day.

"You guess what I'm thinking of...or, well, looking at...or—you'll get the picture," he tried to explain. "Unfortunately Tahir won't be able to play, though," he added, nodding to his friend. "You have to be able to see things. Sorry, Tahir."

"Oh, it's fine with me," Tahir replied, waving the idea away with his hand. "Go ahead and play your game together."

"Alright," Nadim replied, looking out in front of him. "I'm thinking of something...blue. Now guess what it is."

Xavia gazed ahead of her, understanding the game now. She took in the entire picture of their surroundings. There was the sand and...the sky. That was pretty much all and the sky was definitely the only blue thing around. "The sky?" she asked, not seeing what else it _could_ be.

"You're right!" Nadim exclaimed loudly, with much mock excitement. "Now it's your turn!"

"Alright, I'm thinking of something...gold," she said, after a moment, not being able to think of much else.

"The sand!" Nadim answered boisterously.

"Yes," Xavia replied with an amused smile in his direction. She glanced at the guards again and at Shahzad. The guards looked somewhat confused and were looking to Shahzad for directions. He, on the other hand, had a slight frown on his face, but wasn't really paying any attention to them.

"I'm thinking of something grainy," Nadim spoke again.

Xavia considered. The sand was the only grainy thing, but she'd already done it. She wasn't sure if that was against the rules or not. "The...sand?" she asked.

"Exactly!" Nadim replied. "Your turn again."

She nodded and glanced around. There wasn't much else to do. There was the horses she supposed. She might as well use them. "I'm thinking of something—"

Nadim caught her eye. He was gesturing wildly at the sand, then at one of the guards. The man was rolling his eyes and huffing at them, in general looking very annoyed with their game.

Xavia smiled a bit connivingly, getting his point. They would see just how annoying they could be. She was a bit concerned about how Shahzad would react if_ he _got annoyed, but she wasn't going to let that ruin their fun. _"_I'm thinking of something...powdery."

"The sand!" Nadim practically shouted out.

Xavia nodded, laughing now.

Tahir smiled as well, looking highly entertained at their game and somewhat incredulous that they hadn't been stopped yet.

"I'm thinking of something...yellow...ish," Nadim said.

"The sand!" Xavia replied, now with as much enthusiasm as Nadim.

"Will you two shut up already?!" one of the guards hollered at them, seeming to burst suddenly. It was the same one who'd been rolling his eyes. It seemed that they had just gotten _too_ annoying for his tastes. The other guards seemed to be in agreement with him.

"Alright, alright," Nadim said. "Pushy. I think we were beginning to run out of adjectives anyway."

Xavia smiled, looking down at her hands. Well, that had been fun. Even if it hadn't lasted long. She sighed and glanced downward at the golden sand in front of her. It rippled across the ground in intricate designs of the wind, only to be kicked up by the pounding horses' hooves, forming a thick, brown cloud at their feet.

"What _is_ that?" Shahzad was asking when she looked up again.

A few hundred feet in front of them stood some sort of huge stone structure. It was extended at an odd angle from the ground, leaning decidedly to the left, nearly so much that it looked ready to topple down at any moment. A ways up, though, it curved abruptly to the right and came to a jagged point at the top, appearing so sharp it could slice through anything it touched. Xavia had seen it on the horizon earlier, and supposed it to merely be a rock, but now it was obviously not. It was some man-made thing, though no one was quite sure what.

"The Sands of Time," a guard next to her breathed in awe.

She glanced at the amazed man, staring straight ahead with a starry-look, before hearing Nadim chortle. "Does it look like the Sands of Time to you?" he asked with a cynical laugh. "Does it even look remotely similar to sand?"

"Well then what is it?" Shahzad asked again, sounding impatient.

Xavia glanced over at Nadim, peering at him through between two of the guards that rode in reserved silence at her side. She was curious as well; such a thing had never been mentioned in any of the texts he'd told her about.

"Well, from what I can make out of it from here, it looks like some sort of a monument," Nadim began, straightening slightly in his saddle. "Its structure is very similar to a common type of memorial used in the old days, before the Sands of Time were lost and whatnot. Of course, I couldn't be entirely sure of what it is unless I could actually look at it and try to decipher it. There's likely writing on it; most of that kind were completely covered in writing that would explain what the monument was for, possibly mourning the loss of something, often including old, meaningless poetry...most of them were ruined at the same time the Sands of Time were lost, but I guess this one...well, wasn't."

"I see," Shahzad spoke when he was done. "Is it anything important—that we should know about?"

"Well, how should I know?" Nadim asked with a slight guffaw, receiving many stony glares from the guards. "Look, like I said, I would have to decipher it. Which means, we would have to be there, where I could actually see it. And it would take time," he said slowly with a rather large hint of annoyance.

Xavia smiled slightly and glanced again at the stone. It was a fairly large monument, she could see, as they were getting closer. It stood at least ten feet into the air, with sides nearly half that wide. There was text covering it, etched deeply into the stone and painted in an earthy red tone.

She glanced back at Nadim and Tahir. They were speaking to each other in low voices; Nadim was likely explaining what it looked like to Tahir, who was nodding with a curious frown.

"We'll stop here then, for a moment," Shahzad commanded as they came to a halt in front of it. "Nadim, translate the text. See if it's anything we need to know."

"I—but—there could be as much as...a hundred pages of ancient text on it!" Nadim argued. "I can't just translate it, like that!"

Shahzad frowned darkly at the man. It was clear he did not want his authority to be undermined. "Do it," he barked.

"But—it's going to take a while!"

"Fine, you have until tomorrow morning," Shahzad replied, jumping off his horse.

Nadim stayed in his saddle for a moment, looking exasperatedly from Shahzad to the monument, with its one sharp point extending high up into the bright blue sky.

Xavia gave Nadim a sympathetic smile before swinging off of her own horse, stepping onto the sandy ground.

* * *

Tahir leaned back against the hard stone of the monument, adjusting the torch in his hand slightly, to what he hoped would give Nadim the best lighting. The man was _still_ grumbling about the translation, though Tahir wasn't entirely listening. He had been watching Xavia in his mind, and he could still see her, but as she was doing nothing but sleeping, he turned his attentions back to Nadim. 

"I can't believe they're making me do this in the dark!" Nadim was saying. "I mean, the dark for goodness sake! And I don't even have any paper to write it down, how am I supposed to remember all this?"

Tahir turned towards his friend, giving him a sidelong smile. He hoped he'd be able to get it translated by sunrise; he had no idea what Shahzad would do if he didn't. "So is it anything important?" he asked, touching the stone with one of his own hands. He could feel the smoothness and then the writing, cut deeply into the stone.

"Well—it's more or less everything you ever wanted to know about the Sands of Time without really telling you anything," Nadim said.

Tahir frowned slightly, wondering what exactly Nadim meant by that.

"See, basically this monument is for the Sands, in a sort of remembrance to when they kept Arabia safe, controlling the Times, so to speak. But then the rulers started abusing their power, and they'd all be jealous of each other and start killing each other over it. So eventually a few people got smart about it, and they buried the Sands themselves and made it as difficult as possible to find them."

"Oh," Tahir said simply, hearing the man's breathing and his fingers scratching on the surface of the stone, brushing away the sand that had gathered there over the years. He heard it sprinkling lightly to the ground, almost like the sound of water, splashing back down against its surface. "So does it say anything about finding them?" he asked after a moment. "Or spilling them?"

"It mentions the rings, yes, and—" he broke off suddenly in mid sentence, leaving his next word hanging in the air.

"Nadim?" Tahir asked, curious as to what he'd found.

"It can't be," Nadim breathed after a moment, his voice a mere whisper. "I mean it makes sense, but..."

"What is it?" Tahir asked again, now really wondering what it said. Nadim was prone to trailing off in the middle of explaining things, too interested in the translation, but he usually didn't stop to actually exclaim over what it said until he was completely done with the translation.

Nadim gave him a hurried glanced; he could feel his breath blowing onto his face. "Be quiet!" Nadim told him. "Just wait a minute..." His hands brushed over the stone memorial with a sweeping, whisking sound, then a harsher, scraping noise, using his fingernails likely. "Ah, there it is," he said, as Tahir heard a sliding sound, as though something had sprung out of the rock maybe, grinding and squeaking slightly. It was quickly slammed back in.

"Nadim, what's going on?" he questioned, feeling very confused. Whatever it was, it had to be important.

"Shh! I've almost got this figured out, and we're definitely going to have to lie to Shahzad about it. Start thinking of something to tell him while I finish this section."

Tahir frowned slightly, waiting in silence for whatever it was. It seemed to be big, with the way Nadim was acting. A moment later something was thrown at him.

"Hold onto that," Nadim said. "You're going to need it."

Tahir frowned and planted the torch firmly into the sand, before picking up the object and running his hands over it. It felt like iron maybe, but smoother. One tip was curved in a circle, then it was straight down the middle. At the end there was a small part extending outward on one side and twirling slightly before coming back in. It seemed to be a key to something, though he wasn't sure what.

"That's the Key of the Sands, the only way to spill them," Nadim said at last. "It's supposed to be blocked from any form of magic, cut off from even the visions of the Destined..."

"You have to have a key to spill the Sands of Time?" Tahir asked, fingering the large key. He supposed that made sense. Whatever the Sands were kept in, if it was easy to break, the Sands likely would have been spilled long ago. It was only reasonable that one would need a special key to do it.

"Yes, well, there's more to it than that," Nadim said slowly, hesitating.

"What is it?" Tahir asked, before Nadim cut in.

"Shh!" There was silence for a moment, as Tahir heard footsteps pass in front of them, treading slowly upon the ground. He thrust the key quickly behind his back and took hold of the torch once more, as he heard Nadim scratching at the stone. Before long they'd passed and Nadim turned back to face him.

"I think you should run away," he said in a low voice. "There's another place to spill the Sands, you don't even need to have found them first. You need two of the Destined, though, you'd have to take Xavia."

Tahir frowned. "Why? And how are we going to get out of here?"

"I don't know, but you have to," Nadim replied adamantly. "If you spill the Sands of Time actually there, at them...you're going to die."

"What?!" Tahir asked, rather too loudly.

He could hear one of the guards, pacing over to them, his feet pounding determinedly on the ground. "What's going on here?" the man asked in a deep voice as he stopped in front of them.

"I'm translating," Nadim answered in an annoyed tone. "What do you _think_ is going on?"

The man grunted slightly, but stayed where he was. His heavy breathing echoed across the space between them, sounding almost like an animal. "Well? Aren't you going to translate?" he asked after a moment.

Nadim sighed and swiveled around in the sand, to face the monument. "You know, Tahir," he declared after a moment. "I have no idea how I'm going to get all this done by sunrise. I'm not even half way through and there's still two other sides!"

"What?!" Tahir exclaimed, trying to make it an echo of the way he'd spoken the word previously, so the guard wouldn't suspect anything and would hopefully leave them alone. "You have to get it done! Do you have any idea what he'll do to us if you don't?"

"I know, I know," Nadim replied, with very believable exasperation.

The guard stayed for a few more minutes, standing over them imposingly, then finally walked away to rejoin his comrades, a good distance away from them.

Once he was sure the man was out of hearing distance Tahir spoke again, "So what's going on here?" he asked in a whisper. "I'll die if I spill the Sands?"

"If you do it actually at the Sands, then yes. The way it's set up, if you put the key where it goes in the Sands of Time, they are just going to spill all over you and you'll suffocate. It seems to be a sort of failsafe, so that the Sands could only be spilled under really dire circumstances. Whoever is willing to spill them has to be willing to sacrifice their own life."

Tahir nodded, considering this. Would he be willing to sacrifice his life for Arabia? He thought of Xavia, of the Forty Thieves. They depended on him, to cure Arabia, of course, but to be alive to lead them as well. Which was more important? He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to think about it. "So the other way to spill them, what is it?"

"There's another...monument, I guess, a lot like this one and there's a place to put the key in and the Sands will just spill where they are. I don't know how it works, it just does. But you have to have two of the Destined putting the key in, you both have to hold it and turn it together."

"So how do we find it?" Tahir asked. This other option seemed the better of the two and much, much easier.

"It says it's a fortnight from here, one week following the sun, then the other following the...north star, I think is what it says. So...west and then north, I would assume. That's where I would go anyways."

Tahir nodded. It sounded plausible enough and not too complicated. As long as his week of traveling was the same as anyone else's. "I'll go then, but we'll have to come up with some sort of a plan to do this. I don't know how I'm going to get out, especially bringing Xavia with me."

"Yes, that will be the hard part." Nadim agreed. "And we'll need that plan before sunrise."

* * *

Look, I updated! And it hasn't even been a week yet! I'm so proud of myself...so I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I might have gotten a little carried away with the silliness in the beginning, but I had this random idea of them playing I Spy that I couldn't get out of my mind...anyway, review! I'll give you figurative ice cream! 


	21. Chapter 21

Tahir sat quietly in the morning air; the sun was beating down from the sky, though it was just after sunrise. It was hot on his legs, though the shadow of the monument still fell over his face, leaving it cool and unexposed. He could hear the sounds of the camp coming to life: voices, the clanging chains of the Thieves, footsteps. Nadim's breathing came quickly, anxiously next to him, and his own muscles were tensed. 

If their plan failed today, if they couldn't find this other monument, they'd eventually have to think of a new plan and go the Sands as they were. They couldn't go on like this forever. They were wandering aimlessly through the desert, and it would only be a matter of time before Shahzad got angry and killed another of them. It had to stop. And when they got to the Sands of Time, one of them would have to die, and it was going to be him. He couldn't put that responsibility on any of his other men, not after all they'd already been through for his sake. The duty was his and his alone.

Though, he was worried about what would happen to Xavia when and if he did die. Being fate bound, they were _supposed_ to share the same fate, which meant if he died, she should as well. The only way to stop it was if one of them willingly gave up their own life, _choosing_ their own death. He'd be doing just that, in spilling the Sands, of course, but severing the connection of the fate bound was painful. It was often rooted in far deeper than either realized, and the old stories spoke of the anguish being terrible, heartbreaking, more so the stronger the connection was. Not that their connection was very strong with the way Xavia had fought it, but still, he just didn't want to hurt her. Hopefully it would never come to that.

He took a breath, hearing footsteps coming towards them. There were two men; one with a faster, harsher gait. That was Shahzad, without a doubt, he could recognize the way the man walked. The other was walking in time with the first, but with a much more light, easy step; one of the Royal Guard, to be sure.

"Here they come," Nadim verified, whispering nervously, close to his ear. "Shahzad and Mahmud. Are you ready for this?"

"Are _you_?" Tahir asked, in a low, hushed tone. "You're the one that's going to be doing most of the talking."

"Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Nadim replied. "I just hope Shahzad will listen."

Tahir nodded as the men came to a stop in front of them. They stood there silently for a moment without speaking, just breathing. Tahir could almost feel Shahzad's eyes on him, evaluating him, testing him. His breathing was slow and even. Tahir said nothing, not even acknowledging his old friend.

"Well, what have you found out?" Shahzad asked after a moment, his voice breaking into the quiet.

Tahir turned toward Nadim slightly, hoping to the heavens that the man would sound convincing. If there was any doubt in Shahzad's mind, any doubt at all, their plan would be ruined. This was the only chance they were ever going to get.

"Look," Nadim began, in an irritated, almost scolding tone, "this is a big monument and the entire thing is about the Sands of Time, how it was lost and how to find it. Now the last time I checked, that was exactly what you wanted to do. However, instead of letting me rest and take my time with the translation so I can get it right, you told me that I needed to get it all done in _one_ night! Now this just doesn't work for me, so unless you want me to tell you complete gibberish, we're just going to have to stay here a few more days."

Tahir held his breath, waiting for Shahzad's reply. Nadim had done a good job; he sounded exactly the way he always sounded when he was frustrated and acting irritable. However, it was also the type of response that would often make Shahzad completely lose his temper, so he was slightly concerned.

"Well, you must have at least found out _something_ by now," Shahzad snapped, annoyed but not completely enraged. At least, not yet.

"Yes, well, everything I've read so far has said that the Sands of Time are gone. They're lost and they're gone. So if you want to follow that reasoning, we might as well just go back to the city now, because there's nothing out here!"

There was no sound for a moment, save for Shahzad's breathing, still even and controlled. Tahir could imagine his brows etched in a deep frown, and he waited for the blow up. One second, two seconds, three. Nothing happened. Tahir was surprised. Shahzad wasn't good at controlling himself, or he _hadn't_ been, before. When he was angry, he was wild and passionate, not cold and reserved. He _was _angry, wasn't he? Yes, he had to be, Tahir could hear it in his voice, in his breathing even. He knew how to read people, even if he was blind and Shahzad was definitely angry, but not the way he usually was. Normally it was loud and fierce, but now he didn't yell, didn't scream; he was calm, with a quiet kind of fury. Somehow it seemed more dangerous than before. Shahzad was changing, losing himself, it seemed, and there was nothing Tahir could do.

"Fine," Shahzad said at last. "You can have today, and then we'll see." His voice was placid, relaxed even, but edged with contempt, hate.

Neither Tahir or Nadim spoke.

After a moment, Shahzad uttered, "Come, Captain," and the two men turned and walked away, with not a word of berating them for being slow with the translation.

Tahir was slightly astonished. The whole affair had the feel of Shahzad being just about to blow up, and he never stopped when he was like that, but this time he did. Somewhere along the way, with Faiza and his father's deaths and becoming a tyrant sultan, he must have learned to keep it inside. The man had hardly shown any feeling, and what he had shown was quiet, composed hate. It made him feel uneasy.

"That seemed...too simple," Nadim stated after a moment, echoing Tahir's feelings exactly.

"Yes, it did. It's not like him at all, but let's not complain about it. We got what we wanted," he replied. "Now we've got to get ready."

* * *

"Jalal," Tahir whispered as quietly as he could, keeping his lips as closed as possible. He knew the guards were all around them and watching them closely for any signs of foul play. They weren't even supposed to be allowed to speak to each other while they stood in line for meals, but it was their only chance.

There was a shuffling sound in the sand in front of him. Jalal had likely heard him and was now shifting around to try to know what was going on.

"Don't look at me," he breathed quickly, to avoid suspicion from the guards. Nadim's breath was hot and heavy with worry at his back. If they were caught... "We need you to make a diversion," he said urgently under his breath. Nadim coughed loudly as he heard movement to his right. He paused, waiting. Footsteps came closer, then backed away. Silence. "Tell the others, make a riot," he went on.

Jalal still hadn't said a word. That was good, it meant less of a chance for the guards to hear and a better chance for their plan. As long as he_ had_ heard. Then softly, barely distinguishable from the breeze, he asked, "Why?"

Tahir wasn't sure whether Jalal was just wondering what was going on, or if he was hinting at distrust. With The things he'd led them into so far...they had a reason to not want to follow him. "Xavia and I have got to get away—we'll spill the Sands," he said. He felt like the guards were staring at him. "—can't explain right now—when Nadim signals—" He broke off as there was a simultaneous shuffling and stepping that rippled throughout the entire line. They were moving forward.

Jalal moved quickly away from him with a clank of iron chains.

Some hardtack and a piece of bread was pushed into his hand a moment later, along with a filled skin of water, as he was shoved out of the way of the progressing line. He stood there for a moment until Nadim came up beside him.

"This way," Nadim said, placing a hand on Tahir's shoulder and pointing him in the right direction.

Tahir followed his footsteps across the sand, back to the monument. They sat down against it in the shadow, grateful for the shade after standing in the sun for just those few minutes. It was midday, and it was hot. "So do you think they'll do it?" Tahir asked, after a moment.

"Of course," Nadim replied. "I know Jalal, and they trust you, all of them.

Tahir sighed, thinking of the man who'd died for trusting him, hardly more than a day ago. It could easily happen again. "Nadim—if we pull this off, the rest of you...for helping us—"

"We knew the risk when we started out—even if the circumstances _were_ different before. The risk of _not_ helping you is far greater to Arabia."

"He could kill you," Tahir stated.

"Yes, and you could die out in the desert from the heat," Nadim replied, "...the heat! Oh my, you're going to get dehydrated! Here, take this." He tossed his own water bottle at Tahir, who pushed it into his pocket, next to the key that was still hidden there.

"And don't drink any of yours right now. You're going to have to ration, and I mean _really_ ration...don't drink any water unless it's absolutely necessary. Well, I mean, drink some of everyday, but don't drink much. Maybe there will still be some in the saddlebags..." Tahir heard him moving around, then settle back onto the ground with a dissatisfied grunt. "The horses aren't even saddled. Hopefully Xavia hasn't drank much of hers yet...wait, one of the horses is saddled. One of the guards is on it right now, but you'll have to take it, it'll have food." He paused for a moment, before going on. "In fact, stop eating right now, you need to save that. Here take mine, too."

Tahir sighed as more bread and hardtack was thrust at him. He reluctantly put it all into his pockets, ignoring his rumbling stomach. Nadim was right, he supposed. He wasn't starving right now, but later, he could be. A fortnight in the desert was going to be difficult to survive. Perhaps they could ride faster and get there faster, but that would throw off the directions. If they got lost out there, they _would_ die, without a doubt. Rationing was the only way.

"Anything else you need to stuff my pockets with before we start out?" Tahir asked sarcastically, fingering his bulging pockets. Hopefully no one would notice.

"Mm? No, the guard is getting off the horse, though, that's good. Hopefully they won't take the saddle off..."

Tahir sat quietly as Nadim observed the situation. He could hear the horse he spoke of, the soft clop of its hooves against the sand, the Royal Guard talking amongst themselves, perhaps the Thieves as well.

"I think we should do this now," Nadim said suddenly, firm and adamant.

"What? Already?"

"Look, the Thieves are mostly done eating and we can't risk them taking the saddle off that horse," Nadim explained urgently.

Tahir could hear him scrambling to his feet. "But what if Jalal hasn't said anything yet?" he asked in a loud whisper. He wasn't sure that he was entirely ready yet; he was feeling nervous and unsure of himself, now that the time had actually come.

"It doesn't matter. We don't make any real moves until they start rioting. If they don't do anything, we tell Shahzad some lies and hopefully he trusts us more for it."

Tahir didn't reply.

"Come on, man, be bold!" Nadim was saying.

Well, that was odd, having Nadim telling _him_ to be bold. Tahir drew a breath. Alright, the time had come. It was sooner than he'd thought, but he'd known it was going to eventually, anyway. Might as well be now. He stood up. Time to throw caution to the winds, just like in the old days, with Shahzad and Faiza at his side. He smiled slightly; he was one of the Forty Thieves, he knew how to face danger without even blinking an eye. They stepped forward.

In a matter of moments they came to a halt in front of where Tahir presumed Shahzad's tent was. The Royal Guard was all around, talking, though they fell silent when Nadim and he approached. Everything was still; the only sound was their breathing.

"What do you want?" one of the men finally questioned them in a deep, brassy voice.

"I want to tell Shahzad about what I found on the monument," Nadim replied. "I think he'll be very pleased with it."

The man was silent for a moment, as if trying to decide what he thought of this, before grunting, "I'll let him know." He walked away and pushed the tent flap out of his way with a whooshing sound.

Nadim's breath came from a different direction, as he swiveled around, glancing about throughout the camp, locating the Thieves, signaling to them that this was the time.

Tahir hoped that he looked nonchalant about it and that they got the message alright.

In a matter of moments, Nadim turned back around with a disinterested, "Hmm."

Tahir smiled slightly, feeling his heart beating hard in his chest, not quite pounding, but close enough. To calm himself, he thought of Xavia, tried to picture her in his mind's eye. He was surprised by how easily he seemed to...connect with her almost; he could see her now and knew exactly where she was. It was said that the fate bound in the days of old could even speak to each other in their minds. Perhaps he would try it..._Xavia, we're going to run._ There was no response from her, at least, not that he could tell. Ah, well, it was worth a shot.

Suddenly the world seemed to erupt into two different sounds. The first, quieter one, was the sound of footsteps, Shahzad's and the guards, and the tent flap being thrown open. The second was much louder and involved much shouting, clanging chains and Jalal yelling out, "Left! Right! Left! Right!"

"What is going on?!" Shahzad shouted, now standing right in front of them.

"Uh—I don't know, Sir," the guard who'd spoken to them stammered in confusion.

From what Tahir could tell, it seemed that _all_ of the guards were simply staring in confusion while the fourteen Thieves were simply walking away in a very organized manner.

"Well, go stop them!" Shahzad commanded. "They're all chained together, it shouldn't be difficult."

"Right, Sir!"

There was a stampede of footsteps as they all marched away to stop the Thieves.

"What to you two want?" Shahzad asked after a moment.

Tahir felt Nadim's breath hit his face, waiting for him to make a move. He was silent for a moment, weighing things out. There was still Shahzad left, standing somewhere in front of them, and two guards, one at each side, from what he could make out of their breathing patterns.

"Well?" Shahzad asked again, growing impatient.

"Sir, we—" Nadim began.

Tahir concentrated on where Shahzad was, feeling for exactly where his breathing was coming from. There was no wind to throw it off, so his mouth was right there. He drew his arm back fast and propelled it forward, knocking into Shahzad's nose. There was a slight cracking sound as the man fell back, against the ground.

"Took you long enough!" Nadim exclaimed. "I really hadn't planned out what I would say, and I was drawing a blank there."

Tahir laughed slightly as he was set upon by one of the guards, grabbing him from behind, one arm around his waist and one over his shoulder, next to his neck. He jabbed his elbow into the man's stomach as hard as he could. The man fell back, groaning in pain. He heard the other one, who'd likely been fighting Nadim, do the same. It was surprisingly easy.

"Guards!" Shahzad was calling now, slightly recovered from the blow.

"Get my horse ready, I can get Xavia," Tahir said to Nadim.

"Aye," Nadim replied, before running off.

He heard Shahzad scrambling on the ground, as were the two guards. He really didn't have the time to fight them again; he had to get moving fast, before the rest of the Royal Guard came. Hopefully they were having a hard time with the others, that would hold them back longer. "Xavia, come here!" he called into the tent, as he tried to decide just where on the ground the other men were.

Shahzad helped him by speaking, "You're not going to get away!" he shouted. "I have the Royal Guard!" He was standing now, his breath came straight forward to Tahir.

Tahir lunged forward, running straight into Shahzad. Against him, he easily found the man's saber and backed away, pulling it out of the sheath, metal ringing. He could feel the other men, who _had_ been approaching him from the sides, back away slightly. They were surprised, but it would only be a matter of time before they pulled their own blades. "Xavia!" he shouted again.

Just then, she appeared, coming out of the tent, her green eyes quickly taking in the scene. "We're running away?" she said, half in a question and half just stating it.

"How did you know?"

She shrugged, a slight smile curling on her lips. "Aside from you coming and beating Shahzad and the guards? I had an odd feeling about it."

Tahir stopped for a moment, slightly startled. He'd tried to tell her, could she have...? He didn't have time to think about it now, he could hear the men pulling their sabers from their sheaths, metal sliding against metal.

He dashed forward between them and grabbed her hand. "Come on!" he said urgently. He started to step, then realized he didn't have the faintest idea where he was going.

"A horse?" she asked, glancing into his eyes.

He nodded and she tugged his hand in the other direction. They ran like mad, ignoring the shouting and the men running after them, just behind them, so close they could almost touch them. Xavia's hand pulled on his, darting to the right, then back left again, flying like the wind, trying to lose them. It worked slightly; they seemed to be the faster runners, but he was afraid it wasn't enough. They were still close.

They came to a halt suddenly, and he could smell the horse, musty and hay-like.

"I brought some extra water and dried apricots, from Shahzad's side of the tent," Xavia was saying, pulling the objects out of her pockets.

"Good, good," Nadim replied. "You'll need them."

The articles were stuffed into what Tahir could only assume was the saddlebags; it appeared to him that they simply disappeared into nothing. The men were coming; he could hear the two of them, fast footsteps pounding into the earth, breathing coming hard, rasping.

"Ta—"

He spun around and sliced into one of them with his saber, before Xavia could even really get out a proper warning. The other, surprised at his comrade's sudden death was also easily dispatched with a saber thrown into his leg. At least, Tahir assumed it was his leg, as he fell to the ground, crying out in agony.

Xavia winced, while Nadim muttered, "That was quick...," then more intensely, "oh, you need to go. Now."

Tahir turned slightly, listening. There were footsteps, a lot of footsteps, running and stomping into the ground, as they came. The Royal Guard was finally done with the others, then. He hoped his men would be alright and that they wouldn't punished _too_ severely for helping them get away. That is, if they got away. The men were coming fast.

Xavia put her foot up onto the horse's stirrups, swinging herself easily into the saddle.

He stepped over quickly and felt for the saddle, following suit. He landed behind her, rather uncomfortably in the saddle that was far too small for the both of them. Still, it would work, and she handed him the reins.

He kicked his heels into the horse's side, starting it off running. They needed all the speed they could get, until they were much farther away from the camp than this.

"West!" Nadim shouted from behind them. "That's to your right, Tahir!"

He pulled back hard on the reins and turned the horse around, switching directions.

"So where are we going, exactly?" Xavia asked from in front of him.

He smiled slightly. "I'll explain on the way, once we're farther away from here."

There was a smacking sound from back behind them, at the camp, and then horses' hooves. Beating, throbbing, pulsing into the ground, scattering and stampeding all around them. Nadim had let the horses go. They wouldn't be followed, or at any rate, not fast enough to get caught.

* * *

First of all, I want to really thank everyone who reviewed last chapter! I think I got more reviews than I ever have on one chapter in this story and it really made me happy. You guys rock my world! And I also want to apologize for this taking so long, school started and it takes up a lot of time. However, things should be settling into a bit of a routine now and I'll _hopefully_ be able to get out a chapter once a week or so. Hopefully. So review, it makes me happy! 


	22. Chapter 22

I know, it's been way way way too long, but I have time to write now, because my musical is over! I'm infinitely happy about this! I'm going to update before a month goes by, honest! Well...if I don't I'll be very angry with myself, because I'll have no excuse...but anyway, I hope you like this chapter (and have not completely forgotten what this story is about) because I wrote it about five times and lost it either due to computer issues or it just being terrible. I'm hoping it's better this time around. Let me know what you think.

* * *

They were gone. He clenched his fists, staring at the black, pulsing spot nearing the horizon, growing smaller by the second. That was them, them and the dozens of horses that had all followed them, all gone. He frowned deeply, his breathing was coming harder now; he pulled a ring off his finger and flung it to the ground, aiming it directly into the glittering sand.

He wanted it to break, wanted it to smash into pieces; he wanted to hurt something. It did nothing, though, hardly even made a sound as it hit the soft sand. The sapphire sparkled in the sunlight, along with the other, odd-looking part of it in the center, with the gold specks. It was the ring Khalid had given him before, the one like Xavia's. It was supposed to help him find the Sands, if he had the other one. Too late now.

He clenched his fists again, tightly, feeling his nails stabbing into his palms. He raised his foot into the air, prepared to stomp it down on the ring, smash it, shatter it if he could, or simply push it deep into the sand. He didn't want it—not now! What use was it? His foot was right above it, almost touching. He hesitated, sighed and set his foot down next to it again, bent down, and picked it up. He slipped it back onto his finger, still glittering.

He glanced at the horizon again. He couldn't see them anymore, it was just gold sand meeting blue sky, all the way around him. The desert went on for miles, it seemed, much farther than he could see. It seemed...empty, so much open space. It suddenly stuck him that he was all alone. Faiza was gone, his father his gone, and now Xavia and Tahir were gone. All his friends—gone. Why? What right did they have, to leave him? Maybe...maybe he'd driven them away. The thought was small, in the back of his mind, but strong and nagging. It felt...cold—like fear. He pursed his lips, tried to ignore his shaking hands. He _had _dragged them out here, had beaten Tahir, hit Xavia, killed—

No! It was their fault! They'd betrayed him, Tahir stole Xavia, Xavia turned on him and now they were gone! And good riddance, too, he hated them! Hated them more than anything! He took a breath, forcing it to be steady, tightened his muscles, stopping the shaking. He hated them. He let the thought fill his mind, focusing purely on it. It was their fault. Everything was their fault. He was a sultan, they should have respected that. If they died out there in the desert—as they likely would—they would be the only ones to blame.

He took a breath and glanced at the Royal Guard. Some had returned to their places now, though several were still clumped in one area, encircling Captain Mahmud and...Nadim. What was he still doing here? Fool, if he had any sense he would have gone with them. He supposed it would be harder, though, with three, rather than two. They would have needed another horse. Not that they didn't have one to spare, now.

He looked at the spot where the horses had been, just bare sand now, but dotted with their hoof prints, scattered and pounded deep into the gold sand. All gone. They were stuck here, out in the middle of the desert, who knew where, with no horses to travel with. They'd have to walk back to the palace, in the sweltering sun, rations getting slimmer by the day. They might not make it.

He looked back at Nadim standing there, quietly and calmly watching the scene unfold around him. In a way...in a way it was his fault. He'd helped them escape, there was no way they could have gotten away without him. Tahir was blind, Xavia guarded too well. But Nadim, he could do things. He was smart. He pursed his lips, watching the man carefully. He was looking around now, watching the guards. He looked...awkward, with a hint of fear, but not _so _much fear. He had potential. He stood straight, shoulders squared away, head up. He felt his eyes narrowing against the man; he had the potential to be dangerous.

He took a step forward, walking towards the circle, his boots crunching into the grainy sand. He'd talk to the Captain, talk to Nadim, and find out if the man was to be his enemy or not. He'd show his authority to him, to the Thieves—to them all. He wasn't a fool of a sultan; he wouldn't stand for tricks like this, for them running away, not ever again.

As he walked he saw something else—blood, almost a pool of it staining the sand a dark crimson. One of the men was picking someone up. Half of the body hung over the guard's shoulder, limp, dead. Another lay on the ground, his own saber protruding through the man's leg. The man was screaming out and writhing on the ground, only to scream more with the pain of moving. For a moment, he stared just watching the man, pondering what it would be like, having something sticking through either side of his leg, watching his blood flowing out freely. He turned away from the image just as quickly.

They'd killed one and injured another, then. Well. The Royal Guard was big. The Thieves weren't. He could get even, more than even. He could do the same thing to the them, but there'd be less of them still standing. And he could kill more than they did, he had more power than they did! He could make them watch, only Tahir wasn't here anymore.

He clenched his fists, feeling his veins pulsing, blood throbbing. They were gone! He'd make them pay, still, somehow. He turned slightly; he could feel someone watching him, feel their eyes on him, studying him. Nadim. His eyes darkened just seeing him. His fault...he took a step towards him.

He was suddenly taking many more steps toward Nadim, pushing past any of the Royal Guard in his way, not caring what they thought of him. Most of them stepped back, uttering "my lord" in a surprised tone. They were staring at him, wondering what he was going to do, gaping maybe. He didn't care. Let them stare; he was there sultan! He could do what he liked.

He reached Nadim quickly. The man watched him silently, didn't move, didn't fight back, didn't even flinch as his fist came up to hit him in the face, swinging back hard and rushing forward again. His dark eyes met Shahzad's own, with some fear, yes, but also opposition and...something else...regret, for him, oddly. Not as understanding as...but they'd never been understanding. They were cruel, they hated him, they'd left him! Looking back again, all he saw was the opposition, the rebellion in the dark, glinting, scheming eyes. His fist came down hard into the right one.

Then they were on the ground, in the sand, wrestling, punching, scratching, biting. Anything was game, it didn't matter, they were just fighting. His foot collided the man's chest as he felt teeth on his arm. He yanked it away and tried to dig his nails into the underside of the arm closest to him. There was a kick at his head. He reeled around, twisting away and then came back hard on top of Nadim, punching over and over again.

There was shouting. "Your highness!" It was repeated, a time or two, he kept punching. Nadim was groaning. His hand was wet and hot. There was blood on it, dark red, staining it. "You're highness!" It was shouted again, until finally, "Shahzad!" He paused, for a moment. No one called him that, besides Xavia and Tahir, but they were gone, and his father and Faiza, but they were dead. No one was _allowed _to call him that. He was royalty; they weren't. It was simple, it was the law.

He felt strong arms pulling him away—not Nadim, he was still on the ground, cringing from the punches—someone else. They pulled him up, off the ground and onto his feet. He turned and pulled himself away, stumbling a few feet before turning around again to look.

Captain Mahmud stood, staring at him, his face red. He'd been the one yelling.

Nadim stood also now, close to the Captain. He was wiping the blood off of his face with his sleeve. It looked worse than he'd realized. There were bruises all over, purple and blue and red. One of his eyes looked like it was beginning to swell.

He looked back at the Captain. He'd stopped him, he'd spoke his name, he'd undermined his authority. His own captain, not Tahir or Xavia, not one of the Thieves, the captain of his own Royal Guard! "You had no right!" he shouted, feeling the adrenaline rushing, his blood flowing quick and fast.

Everyone fell silent. He hadn't realized, until now, how quiet it was. The Royal Guard didn't speak, the Thieves didn't speak, Captain Mahmud didn't even speak. The only sound was the sand falling and drifting in the soft wind.

"You would have killed him," the Captain said at last, his voice low and steady, but opposing still.

"I'm your sultan!" It was his right; no one could take that from him!

"And I'm not going to let you kill a man for no good reason!" the Captain bellowed back, his voice louder now, stronger and harsher. "You can kill him for being a traitor, you can kill him for aiding a prisoner, but you won't do it yourself! You're not going to attack him and kill him for revenge in front of me. I don't care who you are, Shahzad. You might be the sultan, but you're not the man your father was."

He stared at the man, incredulous. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Not the man his father was? He didn't need this, not from the man who was supposed do to his bidding without question! He wouldn't take it! He'd—he'd—he looked at the faces of the men around him, all stony and grave. They worked under Mahmud. Did they all agree with him, then? Did they all think he wasn't fit to rule? His hands were shaking; he held them at his sides, muscles tight. He pursed his lips. "This has to end now!" he said, loud, but not shouting anymore. He was a sultan; he'd show it. He remembered the way his father always spoke, commanding but not yelling, like a ruler should. He went on, feeling stronger.

"This has to end now!" he repeated. "And I'm going to end it!" They were all watching him, curious, but guarded still, not letting any emotions win out. He turned to the man standing closest to him. "Give me your saber," he said in a low tone.

The man raised his brow slightly, glancing from him to the Captain.

"Do it," he said again.

He frowned slightly, but did so, sliding the long sword out of its sheath, metal ringing. He handed it over, hilt first. Shahzad took it, feeling more like a sultan just feeling the cold metal in his hands. He lifted it high in his right hand, extending it up into the air, then bringing it down again. He stabbed it into the sand, several inches down and started walking. He drug it along with him, walking far across the camp. The men all stepped out of his way, parting before him on either side. He went about half way down the camp, then stopped, looking back at his long line, drawn clearly, deep into the sand.

He stepped onto the right hand side of it and looked at the men, scattered on either side of the line, but closer to him now, watching him, puzzled. He took a breath before speaking, waiting. His hands were shaking. He ignored them. "Listen, all of you! Anyone who opposes me, stand on that side of the line! And any of you with me, this side!" He took a deep breath, watching them.

Most didn't move yet, but glanced around amongst each other. If they didn't follow him, if he ended up all alone on his side of the line...he felt beads of sweat on his forehead as he stared at it. Being all alone, on the line, no one with him...he was afraid, he realized. He was afraid of being alone, more than anything else. He wouldn't, though! He pleaded with himself, silently, with the men all around him whispering together, silently. He was their sultan! They had to stand with him! But the argument sounded weak in his mind.

There was silence, deafening silence. No one had come to stand by him. Granted, none were obviously glaring at him from the other side either, they all just stood without moving, just looking at him. Despair swept over him. He was alone, he'd lost, he...but there was noise behind him, chains jangling against each other, metal clanging. He frowned slightly and slowly turn to look.

The fourteen chained Thieves, along with Nadim, came to a slow stop beside him. He stared, incredulous. What were they doing here? He'd expected them to be the last ones to come to his side, if they didn't head straight to the other side to oppose him. He certainly didn't expect them to show up beside him before the Royal Guard.

"This doesn't mean we agree with what you're doing," Jalal clipped, from down the line. There was a rather loud murmur of agreement from the rest of them.

"Then what are you...?"

"We thought of what Tahir would do," Nadim cut in, in explanation, from beside him. "He wouldn't let you stand here alone. You were one of us once, and we don't leave our people alone. No matter what they've done. Once a Thief, always a Thief."

He nodded slightly, but was still puzzled. They'd thought of what Tahir would do? But Tahir had run off with Xavia, Tahir hated him, they all...hated him. Yet they all stood next to him still, on his side of the line. He didn't think he would do the same, in their situation, though he wasn't complaining.

The Royal Guard was watching them as well, looking puzzled and staring at the Thieves as if they were out of their minds. A man across from him him shrugged. "Well, if _they're_ for him, I don't see why not to be." He stepped across the line, standing next to Shahzad.

Slowly but surely, the entire Royal Guard followed suit. He watched in amazement and...pride, swelling in his chest, as they all made their way across the line, until they all stood together on his side. Well, all but one. Captain Mahmud remained, staring. Shahzad watched him carefully, trying to read the look on his face. He only seemed puzzled, his eyes on the chained Thieves.

Finally he let out a sigh and shook his head slightly, looking again to Shahzad. "Well, I don't know how you did it, but I guess we're all with you, your highness." He stepped across the line. Shahzad smiled. For the first time, in a long time, he didn't feel so...inadequate. Maybe...maybe he wasn't so far off from his father, after all. Maybe the old man would be proud. "Well, what will you have us do now, without the horses?" the Captain was asking.

He sucked in a breath. He would have had to decide this anyway, but it felt like a bigger decision somehow, now, with them all standing with him, supporting him. Well, if they tried to find their way back to the palace...the thought was sickening, coming back without the Sands and having to rule. Out here in the desert, the Royal Guard and the Thieves all said they were with him, but in the city...there were so many other people, and...Khalid. Khalid wouldn't be pleased. He pursed his lips and turned to Nadim. "Can you still lead us to the Sands of Time?" he asked, almost surprised by the urgency in his own voice.

Nadim sighed slightly, sounding exasperated. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it?" he replied. "I...I don't know. I suppose so. But I want to look at the monument more first."

"What, while we drink up all our water and eat all our food? So we can all die once we actually start moving?" he asked, irritated. They couldn't stay here that long, not anymore, without the horses. They couldn't travel fast enough anymore. They only had so many rations.

Nadim didn't reply, but just looked at him, an odd expression coming over his face.

He thought of something. Tahir and Xavia, they'd taken the horses. They'd run off suddenly, with no rhyme or reason as to their timing. Now Nadim was stalling, he didn't want to leave yet. "Or are _they_ going to the Sands? Do you want them to get their first?" he asked, his voice growing loud now, getting angrier.

"No," Nadim replied, quietly, calmly. "I'm not stalling for them. But I'm not going to rush off into the desert, with no idea where I'm going, before I read what that monument says about it."

He narrowed his eyes. The man could easily be lying. Just because they stood together in a line, it didn't change everything. They were still at odds with each other. "Where did they go, then?" he asked.

The man pursed his lip and shook his head slowly, from side to side. "I'm not going to answer that and nothing you do to me can make me." Then in a quieter tone he said, "Shahzad, we stood by you today and if we hadn't, you might not still be lording over us. Try to remember that."

He frowned slightly. He didn't like this, friends one minute and enemies the next. It was too much like his father's advisors, playing political games for power, like Khalid, like...like himself. He'd allied himself with Khalid and become one of them, the very thing he hated. Well. He couldn't go back, not now. "Two days," he said. "If you're not done by then..." he trailed off, just a hint of warning in his voice. He couldn't give away too much freedom. The Thieves stood with him, but they didn't stand for him.

* * *

Xavia was jolted awake suddenly, as she realized they weren't moving anymore. It was dark now, the moon was shining down, leaving the sand a pale, almost pearly-white color. She was sitting on the horse, still, but they weren't moving. Wait, they'd still been moving?

"Xavia, are you awake?" Tahir voice was close to her, right next to her ear. She could feel his breath, warm, and blowing gently on her hair.

She started, sitting up straight suddenly, bumping something with her head...his chin, she thought...she realized that she'd been leaning against him, with her head underneath his chin, which she'd just smacked into. She rubbed the back of her head, where it had hit. It hurt. "Yes, I'm awake, now," she replied at last, very glad that it was dark and she wasn't facing him. She had a feeling her face was turning rather red. "How long have I been sleeping?" she asked, yawning slightly as she found the stirrup with her right foot and jumped off, careful not to hit Tahir with her other leg.

She thought back to how much of the day she remembered. The horses had been all around them; that was a sight to behold! It had been...amazing really. They'd all been pure black, coats shining in the sunlight, gorgeous horses, surrounding them. And they were loud, too! Tahir'd made her close her eyes, so she could hear them better, their hooves pounding into the sand, like a million beating drums. Then Tahir had explained where they were going and why and...that was more or less all she remembered.

"Oh, since about mid afternoon," Tahir was replying now, jumping down as well. She could hear his feet land in the sand and slide a bit in the looseness of it. "I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't very tired now."

She winced slightly. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She shouldn't have, really, since he couldn't see. But she'd been so...comfortable. She turned around to face him. He was digging in the saddlebags for something, she didn't know what. "Actually, I still am rather tired," she said. "But I feel lazy. I shouldn't have slept for so long, not when I can see and you can't. And I was...leaning on you, rather much. Was it uncomfortable?"

He seemed to stifle a sort of laugh at her, a guffaw maybe. "No, not at all. I didn't mind. But if I could have the use of your eyes now...?"

"Of course," she replied quickly, stepping over to him. "What are you looking for?"

"Something to tether the horse with," he replied, stepping back. "There should be a peg that we can put in the ground, with a rope connected to it."

She nodded and stepped forward to glance down into the bag. She couldn't see much, in the dark, but she rummaged around through the bag, trying to get it to the best angle for the moonlight to shine through. She finally found something that looked like what he was talking about and handed it to him.

He nodded, uncoiling the rope carefully with his fingers. His hands worked quickly, remarkably fast really, for being blind. In a matter of moments, he'd made his way to the horse and was tying the rope carefully onto the bridle, making a hard knot. He bent down, then and solidly pushed the peg into the sand, as deep as it would go. He stood up, after a moment, stepping back. "I hope it'll stay," he said, running a hand through his dark hair. "Does it look like it will?" he asked, glancing at her.

She looked at the peg. "I...think so," she said dubiously. Truthfully, she didn't know very much about tethering a horse. She now found herself wishing she'd paid more attention when she'd seen the townspeople do it, back in her own country. She'd seen them several times, really, but was never very interested in the matter.

"Alright, we'll hope it does," Tahir was saying. "If it doesn't, we should be able to hear him moving and get catch him, before he goes far."

She nodded. "So, what do we do now?"

He glanced at her with a sideways smile. "Sleep! Though you've already been doing that." He raised his eyebrows at her as he sat down on the ground, leaning back slightly with his palms in the sand.

She smiled slightly. "I know, I know." She came and sat down beside him, feeling the sand shift beneath her, forming to her exact shape. It was actually rather comfortable, much more than she would have thought. She glanced at Tahir. He was lying down now, flat on his back in the sand, hands resting beneath his head. His eyes were closed.

She looked forward again. Everything was quiet, soft, beneath the stars. She glanced up at them, hanging high in the dark, velvety sky. They were brilliant, all shining and sparkling and so...so many of them. She couldn't remember ever seeing as many at home. It had probably always been too cloudy. She just wished they looked more like the ones she _had_ seen at home, though and not so...strange to her.

"What are you looking at?" Tahir asked her in a low voice.

She glanced over at him, looking at her now. His eyes looked bluer in the moonlight, bluer than she'd ever seen them. "Oh, just...the stars. They're really beautiful," she said softly, leaning back against the sand, her head close to his. She sighed softly after she spoke, though she didn't speak of home.

"Which direction are we facing?" he asked abruptly.

She bit her lip, thinking. They'd been going west, they were facing backwards now... "East, I think. Why?" she looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. Did they need to be facing another way? Had they done something wrong?

He was quiet for a moment. He looked like he was thinking hard, concentrating on something, like he was trying to remember. "Look above you and slightly to your right. There should be three brighter stars, crossed over by three others like them."

She looked where he'd indicated. There were certainly plenty of stars there, all seemed very bright; she had no idea which ones he was talking about. "Um..." she began, her eyes searching the area.

She felt his hand grab hers. His was warmer, bigger. It dragged her own upward, pointing into the sky to where he'd said, but in a more precise area than he could have told her. She had no idea how he knew where he was pointing.

"Somewhere around there," he said, dragging her hand in what seemed like very random circles and lines across the night sky.

She looked carefully and...it _was_ there, three brighter stars crossed by three other bright stars. It was a large formation, high up in the sky. It seemed to be an X...she still wasn't sure why he wanted to show it to her. "An X?" she questioned

"Exactly," Tahir replied. "For Xavia. It's your own, personal Arabian constellation."

She laughed and glanced over at him, to see him smiling as well. "How did you even know it was there?"

"Oh, everyone knows it's there. You don't have to see it to know. It's actually an hourglass constellation, there's stars in the middle at the top and bottom, too, but...who cares about hourglasses? It might as well be your constellation."

She laughed again. "Well, thank you...I suppose." He had no idea what it meant to her, to have him point it out, when she'd been wishing she knew some of the stars here.

"Twas my pleasure," he said, with all the mock court manner of a prince. "But now I really am going to sleep."


	23. Chapter 23

He could see the sand, all around him. It was spread out in a wide golden plain beneath the bright sun, stretching out endlessly, the way he imagined the sea would be, though he'd never seen it. He stared, watching carefully the consistency of the image. He'd seen it before, but only briefly, in dreams. After just a moment, it would flicker and fade away, or break into fragments, moving wild and fast, too much so for him to really take anything in. 

This was a dream as well; it had to be, since he could see. But it didn't flicker or fade away into something else. It stayed just the way it was: still, perfectly still, and in brilliant colors, vivid as...as Xavia. Before he ever knew her, when he only saw her in his mind, half the reason he'd decided that he loved her was because of her brightness. She was every color to him, every ounce of light protruding into his dark world. He'd began to associate her with the sun before he hardly knew what the sun was.

He glanced away from the sand for a moment, to his side. She slept there still, soundly, chest rising and falling evenly, just as she would have been, if it wasn't a dream. Everything was the same, even their horse, black and glistening with sweat, stood off to his right side, prancing in the sand, kicking it up in clouds around its hooves. It was as if it wasn't really a dream, as if it was high noon, as if he'd just woken up, only he could see now. He knew better, though. He'd never see, not really. He'd never sleep this long, either, and the horse shouldn't have been moving so much when there'd been nothing to startle it. It was a dream, different from most dreams, but a dream all the same.

He could still enjoy it, though. He turned his attention back to the sand, watching the brightness. The sunlight played across the sand, reflecting and breaking apart, into a myriad of colors, a rainbow flowing across the gold. It was dazzling.

He put his palms into the sand and leaned back to watch it, breathing deeply. Then it hit him. He didn't hear himself breathing. It startled him, scared him even. That was one thing he could count on, he _always _heard himself breathing, if nothing else. There should have been other things now, though. The horse, he should have been able to hear it's hooves pounding into the earth, or its breathing or snorting. He should have been able to hear the wind and the sand stirring in its currents.

He should have been able to _feel_ the wind, for that matter. But he didn't feel anything. Not the air touching his skin, not the sun warming it, not even the sand, grainy at his fingertips. There was nothing. It was too still, too quiet. And the silence was deafening, like a nightmare. His other dreams, they weren't like this. He usually couldn't pick out distinct sounds, but they were still loud and noisy, the background discordant and crashing. This was too silent, like death. It was just another dream, though, he reminded himself, it didn't matter. But it was _wrong, _and it bothered him. He felt blind, though he could see like never before. Having his eyesight was one thing, but to have all of the senses he truly relied on taken away was another.

He wanted to wake up; he didn't want to dream anymore, not like this. He shut his eyes, squeezing them tightly closed, willing it to go away, for him to wake up. He opened his eyes again. It was the same: silent, still, but vivid scenery. He was breathing hard now. He knew he was; he had to be, he was forcing himself to, but he could feel no difference in the air entering his lungs, if it was entering at all.

He sat up more, shifting his weight to move his hands. He took his right one, and dug his fingernails into the skin on the underside of his left arm, as hard as he could. The pain should have woken him up. It didn't. He didn't even feel the pinch, though he knew he'd done it hard enough to break the skin. There was nothing.

He turned his head to his side again, to look at Xavia. He knew that_he_ was alive, because he was at least thinking, but her...if he couldn't hear her breathing, he wanted to at least see it, to know that she was still alive and well, even if it _was_ just a dream. He had to know that she was alright. He could see her breathing, and that was a comfort somehow, to know that even in this freakish dream she was fine.

But...there was something else. A darkness, a cloud of black creeping across the sand towards her, on her other side. It rolled across the ground almost the way a sand storm would, but different. It was smaller certainly, but it was also...sneaking almost, crawling towards her, low to the ground and silent, as everything was silent.

He scooted closer to her on the sand, sitting next to her arm, watching carefully. He could see the veins in his arms, popping out almost. He hadn't even felt his muscles tense. The thing—the darkness—drew closer. He needed to stop it somehow. He tried to move closer to pull her away from it, whatever it was, but he couldn't move; his body would not obey his mind. He was trapped, suspended in that singular spot, just watching.

It didn't stop until it was upon her, floating, hovering above her chest. She took a deep breath, chest rising slow and evenly. The darkness stopped—but not just stopped, it was gone, disappeared, dissolved into the air. Not into the air, though, he'd seen, just briefly, it had snapped up, then seemed to dive into Xavia, forcing itself into her. Through her mouth and nose, or perhaps just through her skin, absorbed through it.

Her stared at her, still unable to move. She was...still, undeniably still, and perhaps a shade whiter than before, if he wasn't just imagining it. He watched, desperately, willing her to breathe again. She made no movement.

He pursed his lips together, consciously forced himself to breathe again, though he doubted it would have mattered. In fact...he exhaled, as much as he could, forcing the air out of him, and didn't take another breath. Nothing happened. His lungs didn't tighten, his head didn't grow light, and the world didn't fade away. He looked at Xavia again. She hadn't moved.

He glanced away, mind lashing out against this place, this dream this madness! He let his eyes roam over the scenery, watching for something to have changed. The sunlight played across the sand, reflecting and breaking apart, into a myriad of colors, a rainbow flowing across the gold. Besides the light, nothing else moved. He couldn't take it anymore. He screamed, though only silence met his ears.

Tahir jolted awake suddenly, breathing hard with sweat pouring down his face. It was dark, everything was dark and black to him, the way it should be. He could hear himself breathing—gasping for air, and he could feel again. He was hot, and the sand was grainy beneath him, and the wind was cool. A sea breeze, he thought, from the west. He could hear Xavia breathing as well, softly and evenly next to him. He'd never felt so relieved.

But he wanted to be able to see her. He reached out, running it over the sand, still warm from the day, until he found her hand. It felt warm and small in his grip. He left his own hand there, holding hers for a moment, as he felt warmth ripple over him until he could see her. Her eyelids fluttered, and she rolled over onto her side, breathing all the while. He took his hand away, but kept his eyes on her, just watching.

He'd do anything for her. If anything ever happened to her...he didn't know how he would ever forgive himself. Granted, if anything happened to her, it _should _happen to him as well, but still. He hoped, more than anything, that it was just a meaningless dream, a product of his own imagination, however sickening it had been. In any case, he'd protect her from it, from anything that ever tried to hurt her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, blinking blearily as her eyes focused. She still looked half-asleep. "Tahir," she said, with a long yawn, opening her mouth up wide. She propped her head up, with her elbow in the sand then and looked at him more clearly. She looked concerned. He wondered what he looked like, after waking up from that dream. "Are you alright?" she asked. "You look—"

"I'm fine," he cut her off, lying back against the sand. He wouldn't tell her about the dream; it was useless, and it could only hurt her. It would likely just sound ridiculous anyways, and he didn't want her to be afraid of some unknown darkness that would come to take her life away while she slept. He didn't want her to be afraid of anything, for that matter.

"You know, I had the oddest dream just now," she was saying. "I was asleep, only...I could see myself, sleeping...and there was this...darkness above me, and I wanted to get away from it, but I—I couldn't wake up," her voice quickened and rose to a higher tone, with anxiety. He turned to face her better, startled. She'd had the same dream. They were dreaming together. When the fate bound dreamt together...well, he could remember the stories, all the things Nadim had translated, and he knew they weren't just meaningless dreams.

"What happened then?" he asked her quietly, though he was fairly certain he knew the answer.

"Well...I don't know exactly. The darkness was...coming down on me and I tried to scream, but I couldn't, because I was asleep, and then...it was just gone. The dream ended, I suppose. Everything just...disappeared." She laughed slightly then, sounding embarrassed. "It sounds crazy, I know. It was...just a dream."

He sighed and turned onto his back again, putting his hands behind his head. He wouldn't let it happen to her. To them, actually; if it happened to her, it was bound to happen to him eventually, though himself dying seemed trivial compared to her. He wondered what it was, though, more than anything. This strange darkness, that bound them in silence and stillness, unable to fight back. He'd have to find a way fight it, somehow.

"Tahir?" Xavia asked quietly.

He glanced at her. She was eying him curiously, likely wondering why he was acting so oddly. "I had—" he stopped. She was watching him carefully, honestly. She trusted him, he knew that. And part of that meant that she trusted him to tell her the truth, but another part meant that she trusted him not to hurt her. He knew her other dreams had hurt her. They scared her, when she woke up screaming without knowing why. This one was different, she thought it was just a normal dream, a nightmare maybe, but nothing that mattered. He couldn't tell her differently, he couldn't tell her that there was a good chance it would come true, a good chance she'd die. "I was just...thinking," he said instead.

"About what?" she asked more brightly now, perking up and smiling slightly.

He thought for a moment, searching for something to say. His mind was still on the dream and what it could mean. It was odd, though, just that they were dreaming together; it didn't happen unless the connection was strong. He hadn't thought it was, but then, before, when they'd escaped, she'd said... "Xavia, when we were escaping and you said you had a...feeling like you knew we were going to...what did you mean?

"Well...I don't know. I was just sitting there and then all of the sudden I felt all...anxious, giddy almost and I just...knew we were leaving. It was like someone had told me in words, but the words didn't come as words, they came as...more of an emotion, or like I was...being willed to know," she paused , her voice trailing away. He'd liked listening to it, the way it rose and fell, and he was fairly certain now that she'd heard him then, that day. "...are you trying to make me sound crazy, Tahir?" she asked at last, frowning suspiciously at him. "First the dream and now this?"

He laughed, a real laugh, like he hadn't in a while. "No, not at all," he replied. "And you're the one who mentioned your dream, so you can't blame that on me."

She laughed as well, but also sighed slightly. "True, I did," she paused and took a breath, "you don't...you don't think it means anything, do you?" she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

He hesitated. She seemed bothered by it, afraid; he felt guilty not telling her the true. But he'd feel worse if he told her. Almost all of her other dreams that she'd seen clearly had come true. He couldn't tell her this was one of those. "No, I wouldn't think so," he said without emotion.

She seemed reassured by the answer. "Good," she said. "I—it worried me a little, after how the other ones have gone." She was silent for a moment, before speaking again. "The sun's coming up," she said at last. "I can see it just barely, turning the sky orange, on the horizon. Should we be going?"

He nodded. "Yes, we should be moving, before it gets too hot."

* * *

The sun was bright on the sand, lighting every grain of it on fire, glinting in a dazzling light, like real gold—only brighter. Xavia squinted downward at it, not daring to raise her eyes to the skyline, where they would meet the even brighter, midday sun. She'd accidentally looked straight into it earlier today, and had felt that she was going blind for several minutes afterwards. It had seemed to be reflecting over the whole sky, like it would over water. Even the ordinarily tranquil blue was blazing far too brightly to look at. She would keep her eyes downward from now on.

It still hurt, though. Her eyes started to water, glossing over her vision with a wall of tears. She squeezed her eyes shut and they all spilled over, rushing down her cheeks in a cascade. She kept her eyes shut for a moment, relishing in the darkness it offered, though she could still _feel _the brightness, orange beyond her eyelids.

She opened her eyes again and, daring the brightness, she glanced up at Tahir, sitting across from her on the sand. Keeping her eyes as low as was possible for her to still see him, she watched him calmly pick up another apricot and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly. He was completely unphased by the harsh lighting. She sighed, dropping her eyes once more. At the moment, being blind would seem a blessing.

She lifted her arm to wipe the wet tears away with the back of her sleeve. Sand was on her face, carried from her sleeve. She could feel it, grainy and coarse, sticking to the sweat on her skin. Sweat. It was everywhere; she was soaked with it! The heat was sweltering, and turning her skin red and burning; every time she just barely touched it, it felt like it was in flames.

Still, she lifted her hand to try and brush the sand from her face. It was bothering her. She shouldn't have tried. It seemed to only spread over her skin and the coarseness of it, rubbing on her burnt face...it stung incredibly. Sweat dripped down her cheek. It certainly didn't help the pain.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. The air was too hot, it felt stale in her lungs. She tried to ignore it and imagine her home, where the breezes kept her cool in the summer. And there was rain there, it would pour down from the sky, cool and fresh, renewing life in the plants and trees. Far different from this moisture-ridden desert.

Opening her eyes, she looked down at her skirt. There was sand, covering it. There was sand everywhere! And it got in everything, all over her skin and her clothes, in her hair, and even in her mouth! Sometimes she'd bite down and she could feel it, crunching between her teeth. It was sickening. She reached a hand to brush it away from her skirt, harshly shoving it off. It stuck to the sweat on the palm of her hand. She felt like screaming. Finally she grabbed onto both sides of her skirt and shook it, as hard as she could, trying to force the sand off of it. Some of it was shaken off, though majority still remained.

"Is something wrong?" Tahir asked, in between bites.

She glanced at him again, almost glaring. Was something wrong? Did he honestly have the nerve to ask her that? She was stuck out here, wandering about in _his _desert, sweating profusely, nearly going blind in the sunlight, and he sat there munching apricots and asking her if something was wrong! Honestly!

"No, nothing!" she replied, in a rather biting tone. She didn't care if she was being rude. She was not having a good day. She stood up quickly and shook her skirts again, more to make a point than to actually get the sand off. _That _was hopeless. It would never come off of her clothes, or her skin. She rather felt that it had protruded under her skin somehow and was stuck there, providing her a never-ending feeling of grainy, powdery, dirtiness.

Tahir looked confused. His eyes were wandering, trying to locate her, but they couldn't. Now was not a time when he could see her, evidently. She almost felt bad for him, since he was so obviously confused as to what she was upset about and couldn't even see her to understand. Almost, but not. She wasn't in an emphatic mood, and she _certainly _wasn't going to touch him so that he could see her.

"I'm thirsty," she stated rather loudly, her tone still defiant, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was defying, besides the general injustices of the climate.

"Here," Tahir said. He reached to his side and picked up one of the water skins, tossing it to her. For a moment, she was amazed at his accuracy. His ability to pick up where sounds were coming from was...well, amazing, really. "Don't drink much, though, that's already the second one," he said quietly.

She frowned then, frustration returning as she felt the weight of the leather skin. Not incredibly light, but it obviously hadn't just beenopened either. "Our second one?" she asked. She took the cork out and put it to her lips, leaning back for just one swallow before closing it up again. "It's hardly been a week, Tahir! We still have a week left to get there and then who knows how long for us to find the others!"

"I know," he said quietly, mumbling almost. He obviously wasn't happy about the situation either. "We'll just have to...ration more."

"Ration more? Is that why you've been sitting there, eating all the apricots? Because you're rationing? Did you drink all the water, too, and that's why we're going to have to ration so much now?" she stopped, realizing how loud she'd been shouting at him. She...she hadn't _meant_ to fly out at him like that, but...she was just...upset.

He was getting to his feet now, frowning. He probably meant to frown at her, but as it was, he was frowning just slightly to her left, almost as though he were staring over her shoulder at something behind. It bothered her. "No, I..." he paused, seemed unsure of what to say. It annoyed her. And the way he was still talking so quietly annoyed her as well.

"You what?" she yelled, wanting an answer. "You just wanted to have all of the food to yourself?!"

"No, that's not it," he said calmly. He didn't add to his statement at all. Didn't really even defend himself, just denied what she said without feeling.

"But I just watched you! And the water, I didn't drink that much! So why is it all gone?" she was almost screaming at him now and was vaguely aware that she was being irrational, but frankly, she didn't care.

In a way, she wanted him to yell back at her. He was being too calm, he was _always_ too calm. She could see her accusations were making him angry, though. She could see it in his eyes; even if he couldn't look at her, she could still see the tension building, flares of anger going off. If she said one more thing...

"Have you just been eating and drinking it all away without even realizing it? In gluttony?" she accused.

"I haven't eaten anymore than you have!" he shouted back, now matching her in tone, beating her tone maybe. He was loud. She realized that he'd never yelled at her before, never really been angry with her. It startled her, otherwise she would have said something back and kept arguing with him. But now that he was angry, she wasn't sure that she liked it. In fact, she was quite positive she didn't.

She didn't really think that he was gluttonous or conniving, or even that he'd had much more than her, if any. Really, she didn't know what the matter was with her, screaming at him like that. She'd just been...upset and wanted to take it out on him. She shouldn't have. But she wasn't going to apologize.

"Xavia," he said her name softly, back to his quieter tone now. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I'm sorry I yelled," he said. He sounded genuine. And he looked genuine. She knew he meant it.

Maybe...maybe she _could_ apologize, since he did first. She wanted him to see her, though. She took a few steps towards him and reached out to touch his shoulder lightly, before dropping her hand to her side. "I'm sorry, too, Tahir. I—I didn't mean it. I just...it's so...so hot and and bright and the sand keeps sticking to me everywhere and—" she broke off. That didn't have anything to do with her apology, she couldn't excuse herself on those terms. "I'm just sorry," she said again.

He nodded and smiled slightly, one corner of his mouth curling upward. "You could have just told me that when I asked you if something was wrong," he said quietly. He didn't say it angrily, or accusingly, just...honestly. His blue eyes were staring directly into hers.

She pursed her lips and nodded, looking downward. The sand was still too bright. And she was still hot and sweaty with sand stuck to her palms. It didn't seem to bother her as much now, though.

"Well, come on," Tahir was saying. "We should get moving again."

She followed him to pack things up and get back to the horse.

* * *

Well, I hope you liked it! There were some parts I wasn't sure about, but I think I mostly like how it turned out. It was kind of funny actually, I never meant to have them fighting but I started writing and Xavia started complaining and from there it more or less wrote itself. :D Review! I'll give you Metaphorical Christmas Cookies! 


	24. Chapter 24

Xavia felt her eyelids drooping shut again, shutting out the world. She forced them open slowly, blinking at the bright landscape. She was _trying _to stay awake, but the sun, combined with dehydration, was having a drowsing effect on her. Once they stopped she could have a drink, and then she wouldn't have any trouble staying awake, but by then it would be dark already and time for sleeping anyway. She took a breath and steadied her gaze, trying to concentrate on the passing scenery. 

The dunes were arranged in long, almost snake-like figures, stretched in narrow, curved patterns across the ground. The glittering sunlight almost made the specks of sand look like snake skin, and if she stared long enough, she could envision them slithering across the ground, moving towards their horse, much as a real snake would. She shook the image away, moving her head forcibly. It faded quickly, leaving her staring at the winding dunes.

She watched them, as they sped past, shimmering as they disappeared behind. They were moving fast, going far, but the landscape was still the same. Everywhere was just golden sand upon golden sand. It almost seemed to be all there was in the world. It was very different from home, where things were green. There, trees and plants were alive and growing, reaching up to the sky. There were streams and rivers, rushing and falling. There was rain. She missed rain, falling in torrents from the sky, wet and cold, but delicious.

She moved slightly and felt Tahir at her back, his muscles hard and solid. "Tahir," she began, a smile curling on her lips as she thought of it, "did you like the rain, when you came to my country?"

He was silent for a moment, and she wondered if he had heard her. Then, finally, he spoke. "It was refreshing," he said, "if a rather odd occurrence. It made it difficult to hear anything else besides it. You seemed to enjoy it, though. I watched you spinning around in it and letting it fall in your mouth."

She laughed, almost blushing. She wouldn't normally have wanted anyone to see her acting like that, but with Tahir...she really didn't care. In fact, she was almost glad he'd seen her. She smiled to herself. "Tahir..." she paused. She could feel her heartbeat all throughout her body, pounding from her chest, but she wanted to know what he would say. "Tahir, do you think I looked pretty in the rain?" she asked quickly, boldly.

She felt him tense behind her, as she waited to hear his answer. "Xavia, I think you looked beautiful in the rain, as always," he said at last.

He spoke so simply and honestly, the way he always did with her. She exhaled shakily. Why did she ask him that, what was she thinking? She _knew _he was going to say that, and she knew she didn't want to hear it! He'd finally stopped insisting that he was in love with her, and what did she do? Go and practically ask him if he still did! She didn't need to have complications with love. He was her _friend,_ and she liked him that way.

"Xavia?" he asked gently. "Are you alright?"

She felt his hand touch her shoulder lightly. She shook it away. She was confusing him, no doubt. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think, then opened them again. "Tahir, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that. I didn't mean anything by it, I just—even if—Shahzad broke my heart, Tahir. I couldn't honestly tell you that I ever loved him, but he broke my heart all the same. I don't want to go through that again. And I don't mean that you would—or that I—but I just—"

"Xavia, it's alright," he said softly. "It was just a question. We can put it behind us. Are we still going north?"

She laughed slightly, a bit nervously, and glanced at the sun, finding her bearings quickly. "Yes," she replied. She was getting better at knowing directions everyday.

"Good."

She smiled, then bit her lip, looking at the horizon, far off in the distance. Gold and sapphire, gold and sapphire. She watched it, until it seemed to shimmer and blink, and she could see her eyelashes fluttering in front of her eyes, dark brown, the world slipping away.

When she opened her eyes again, the scenery had changed. Dunes, if you could call them dunes, dotted the expanse of sand, in circles. The ground appeared as a giant game board stretching to the sky. They were like a piece in it all, stepping and making their way through the maze of flawless, perfectly round mounds of sand. They were the players, making a gamble, trying to reach the horizon before it was too late and they lost everything.

The game board was strange, alien, perilous maybe, but also surreal. It had an odd, illusory beauty to it, a dreamlike quality to the circles, each about five feet in diameter and spread at equal distances from each other. The wind was soft, just a breath really, perhaps moving in circles as well, to keep the pattern in perfection.

"Tahir," Xavia breathed, almost afraid to speak, afraid it would all fade away. "The sand, it's—it's in circles, all covering the ground."

"What?"

She pursed her lips, trying to think of how to explain it. Nothing was coming to mind. "It's like a game board, like we're pieces in a game, moving in the...circles. It's...strange."

"Oh," Tahir said, as if he'd suddenly understood. "Nadim spoke of such places, from the ancient texts, before the Sands were lost. We're far out in the desert now, in the very heart of it. The empty, wild part."

Xavia nodded slightly and didn't speak again. She just watched the circles go by, their ethereal quality not shaken by the pounding of the horse's hooves, or her own staring. They were still, tranquil. The sun shown on them, and a golden sheen seemed to almost flow out of them, like a flame in the darkness, glimmering on.

As they rode onward, the wind did seem to have some effect on the ground. The circles seemed to get closer and closer together, pushing towards others, as though trying to merge with them, into one. In time, the ground had an almost rocky look to it, as the circles were pushed together, but with their separate lines still showing, as deep cracks in the ground. The horse still slipped in it, though, to show that the sand was as soft and loose as ever.

Xavia glanced ahead to see that the circles were coming to an end. They stopped abruptly, making a short, straight, downward dip, where the normal sand lay again, arranging only in gentle, windswept lines on the ground. Farther ahead there was something else, a dot close to the horizon, cream-colored and very nearly blended into the sand, but she could just make it out as something else. As they grew closer to it, it took a more triangular shape and parts of it flapped in the breeze. It seemed to be a tent of some sort. Beside it, there were camels, also sandy-colored, walking on their long legs, with humps extended high in the sky.

Xavia frowned slightly. If there was a tent, there had to be people, but she hadn't thought that anyone lived out in the middle of the desert. From all she'd seen so far, it appeared barren and empty; they'd hardly seen any kind of life at all since they left the sultan's city. Looking out, she jumped suddenly, startled. There was a boy in front of them only a short distance. He was brown-skinned and in his arms he tightly held a small, white goat.

"Tahir, stop the horse!" Xavia whispered urgently, her eyes still on the boy. He was watching them quietly, curiosity in his dark eyes. "There's a boy with a goat and up ahead there's a tent and camels," she explained as best she could.

Tahir pulled back hard on the reins, jerking the animal so it abruptly stopped running and only slowly pranced forward a short ways, before stopping altogether. "There's a boy?" Tahir asked, whispering back. "And a tent? Are you sure? Nobody lives out here, not since the Sands of Time were lost. There'd be no way to survive; there's no water, no...anything."

"Well, apparently there is," Xavia replied. She looked at the boy again. He was only a few yards in front of them. She could see his face better now. He was frowning slightly, his small brow furrowed downward. The goat squirmed in his arms, but he held fast, keeping his eyes on them. He looked surprised to see them at the least, perhaps even frightened. She should talk to him, she reminded herself, since Tahir couldn't see him and the boy was staring mainly at her.

She drew a breath. "Boy," she started, trying to sound as gentle as she could, not entirely sure of what to say. As she spoke, he looked at her, his eyes widening, before he turned in the other direction and broke into a run, fleeing from them and taking his goat with him. She stared, confused. She hadn't _thought _she sounded very scary.

"He's running?" Tahir asked, before she could say anything. He'd already kicked his heels into the horse's side and they were following.

"Yes, towards the tent," she replied. "Or...tents," she added, as they neared. She could see that there were actually several tents now, as they seemed to appear one by one out of the sand, like they grew from beneath it and were only now surfacing out of the grains, for the first time. The boy had disappeared into one of them, she didn't know which.

"Xavia, where are we going, exactly?" Tahir asked.

She glanced around now, coming out of her awe of the place and tried to find where, precisely, they should be going. The camels were to the right of the tents, standing in a singular mass and nonchalantly looking over them. There were some goats farther behind them, seemingly wandering wherever they pleased. The tents were split down the middle, into two groups, with an open area between them, and in the middle of it there was a well. "To the right just a little, then straight," she replied at last. "There's a...street, almost, between some of the tents. Go forward a little and then stop. They have a well; maybe they'd give us more water."

"That would be convenient," Tahir said, as he pulled the horse to a stop, in front of the well.

Xavia jumped down to the ground quickly and watched Tahir do the same, keeping the reins firmly in hand. She looked around then, taking it all in. There were about twenty tents in all, evenly split by the well. However, for all the tents, she didn't see _any_ people. They must have been inside, but she couldn't tell at all, couldn't hear them talking or moving. It was silent, like the place was deserted.

She stayed still where she was, wondering what to do. She knew the boy had went into one of the tents; she'd seen him. Yet he was nowhere to be found, and nobody else was appearing. She glanced at Tahir. A slight frown creased his brow, like he was concentrating hard. "Tahir, where are they? Can you hear at all?"

"I can hear them, just barely," he said. "They're all around us, but trying as best they can to stay hidden. Their breathing is slow and quiet. They make no other movement."

Xavia nodded, looking at the tents that must have held them. "Hello?" she called out quietly. She still heard nothing but her own voice and the wind trying to sweep it away. "We don't mean any harm. We just saw your tents and thought we would stop."

There was a slight sound now, voices whispering, like a buzz, rising from quiet and hardly distinguishable to loud and strong, almost thundering. She swallowed and took a step closer to Tahir, letting her hand rest on his arm.

He glanced down at her, before turning back to hear better.

The tent flaps were thrown open suddenly, nearly all of them at once, as people flooded out of them. They were dark-skinned, as most Arabians were, though perhaps even a shade darker and more ragged-looking, like they were a part of the harsh desert they dwelt in.

The first out and now the closest to them, was a man and a woman, clothed in long robes the same sandy color as the tents. They were obviously old, skin leathery and wrinkled with age. The woman's hair was long and straggled, once black but now lightened to an almost silvery grey. The man's was shorter and a shade darker, evidently still clinging to the black of his youth.

Behind them was boy they'd seen earlier. His goat was at his side now; he rested one hand on it and with his other he held the hand of a small girl, perhaps his sister. They both stared up with huge, dark eyes. They wore little for clothing, only what was necessary, and their dark skin was glossed with sweat.

The others were much the same. There were many of them, crowding close, ranging from small children like the boy and girl to the elderly, only just younger than the first man and woman. They were all dark complected, with like hair and eyes. They spoke and murmured among each other, though Xavia couldn't make out anything they were saying.

The man raised his hands up then, extending them up from his sides until they were high into the air. He spoke in a commanding tone, his voice reverberating through the crowd. The people fell silent at his voice; he obviously held some respect among them. When it was quiet, he looked at Xavia and Tahir, speaking directly to them now.

Xavia glanced at Tahir next to her. She couldn't understand what the man was saying; it was undoubtedly a different language, one she'd never heard before. "What's he saying?" she asked.

Tahir's head was tilted in the direction of the man, listening carefully. He frowned, then glanced at Xavia, shaking his head. "It's some dialect I don't know. It sounds old. Some of the words are familiar, but I can't place them. Nadim might be able to understand, but I can't."

She looked back at the man. He watched them a moment, then repeated what he said, looking at them expectantly, obviously wanting an answer.

She shook her head slightly, not knowing what to say.

He grunted slightly and frowned at her. The woman spoke then, her voice higher than the man's and slightly scratchy. When she was finished, the people erupted into noise and crowded even closer than they were before.

Xavia watched them, trying to understand what exactly they were doing or talking about. They seemed to come closer to her than to Tahir. They reached out their hands, dark and dirtied from the sand, to touch her. They touched her hair, staring incredulously at it and spoke to each other, whispering under their breaths, as they came closer to stare into her eyes.

"Um, Tahir? They're...touching me," she said, laughing a bit nervously and trying to back up. There wasn't anywhere to go. The people seemed innocent enough, but their close proximity was making her rather uncomfortable.

"They're just awed by you. They've probably never seen anyone with hair or skin like you," he said comfortably next to her. None of them were very close to her.

None of them had touched her skin yet. They only fingered her hair, but now they were staring at her skin and glancing at their own, much darker than hers. They reached forward, many at once and laid their fingers on her bare arms. As soon as they'd touched her, they jumped back, murmuring loudly, some even gasping. They quickly moved away from her and kept their distance, all at least ten feet from her.

The older woman had watched this all in silence, a small smile gracing her lips. She walked forward now and stood in front of Xavia, looking her over as though measuring her up, weighing her value.

Xavia pursed her lips, unsure of what the woman wanted.

She reached her hand forward and touched Xavia's skin just as the others had done before her. She didn't jump back, but frowned slightly, staring at her own dark fingers against the lighter skin, then removed her hand, closely examining her fingers where they'd touched. She glanced into Xavia's eyes once before moving to stand before Tahir.

Xavia turned to watch what the older woman would do. Her hand was still on Tahir's arm. She could feel him tense as he sensed the woman's presence in front of him, watching him.

She stood in front of him for a long time, looking resolutely into his eyes, as if searching for something. She lifted her hand then, in front of his eyes, and held it there. Tahir flinched, as though her hand had somehow flung his head back. After a moment he straightened his head again, blinking a few times, as though processing something.

The woman smiled slightly and stepped away back to her people.

"Tahir," Xavia said, turning and stepping closer to him, concerned, "what did she do?"

He frowned, rubbing his forehead slightly. "I—don't know. She showed me something. It was so fast. There were people and they were—" he stopped, listening again. The woman was saying something to her people, still in words Xavia didn't understand. Tahir straightened then, his eyes clearing as he seemed to understand.

"Tahir?" Xavia asked, still confused.

He looked back at her. "She said the names Haytham and Arwa. Nadim found those names on some of the texts about the Sands of Time. He thought that they must have hidden the Sands, lost them, when the sultan was corrupted. When the Sands were gone, Arabia wasn't protected anymore. It was madness, the government was overthrown, people were scattered. Most went to the coast eventually, to rebuild, and that's where our city stands today. Some of them must have not gotten there."

Xavia glanced at the people. They were talking excitedly amongst themselves, obviously very happy about whatever it was, but they were hard people, too. She could tell just from looking at them, they were strong as the desert was strong. "You think they were lost, all that long ago? And they've lived out here ever since?" It would be a long time, and hard to survive. They'd have had to learn quickly the ways of the desert.

"Well, it would make sense, wouldn't it? They could survive out here, and the language they speak, it's obviously old. And it's the only real explanation for them living out here. No one goes this far into the desert just to live. It's the Rub'al Khali, the Empty Quarter. There's nothing out here. The only way they've done it is with their well."

She nodded. "But...why were they mentioning...Haytham and Arwa now?"

"Well, that's the thing," Tahir answered softly, his voice low. "Haytham and Arwa would be their heroes; they saved them from a power-hungry sultan, but...they also want their Sands back. When they were guarded by the fate bound, the Sands of Time protected them from desert storms, invaders, everything. I think...that they want us to bring them back, I think that was what she was trying to show me. They're...attributing us with Haytham and Arwa somehow, I don't know. It seems to be some sort of legend with them."

"But...we can't do that," Xavia said, glancing again at the people. They were rejoicing; they thought they'd found their saviors. They hadn't. She and Tahir had to stop the plague, and spill the Sands so they'd be lost forever. It would heal Arabia, but it wouldn't help these people. In a way she felt sorry for them. They thought they'd have their lives back, the way they were so long ago, but it couldn't be.

"I know," Tahir replied. "We should go; we don't want to encourage them."

Xavia nodded and they stepped towards the horse, preparing to mount and continue their journey. A loud uproar went up from the people before they could make a move. The man stepped forward and grabbed Tahir's shoulder forcefully, stopping him from leaving. He bent down to the ground and picked up a handful of sand, then grabbed Tahir's hand, and dumped it onto his palm. Most slid off, the small grains slipping through the cracks of his fingers. The man extended his arm to the sky, towards the sun then, looking at Xavia pointedly.

"He's pointing to the sun," she relayed the information to Tahir. "I think he means time, the Sands of Time."

Tahir nodded to her and turned back to the man in front of him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, we can't," he said.

The man frowned, as if unable to accept what Tahir said. He moved towards the well, pointing down it and grunting. Xavia, frowning slightly, stepped toward it and looked down. It was dark inside; she couldn't see anything. The man picked up a small stone from the ground and dropped it down. She heard it after a moment, no splash, just hitting against rock. She sighed. "It's dry," she told Tahir. "They don't have any water. They won't be able to stay here."

Tahir's jaw tightened and his brow furrowed. He shook his head again. "I'm sorry," he said simply again, though he knew the people couldn't understand him.

The man started toward him, frowning and practically stomping into the sand. He wanted to get his point across, that was obvious, and he wasn't happy with Tahir's refusal.

Tahir ignored him and mounted the horse, swinging up into the saddle. "Xavia, come on," he said.

She started towards him, glancing at the people as she walked. The man saw this and looked at her, trying to catch her attention; he was desperate, pleading and imploring her to help him. She pursed her lips. "Tahir..."

"Xavia, there's nothing we can do," he said.

She sighed and nodded, walking over to the horse. She knew he was right, she just...wished he wasn't. He helped pull her up in front of him, and they immediately started off at a gallop, leaving the people behind. Some of them were shouting. Most just stared dejectedly. She could see the boy was there, the one she'd first seen, holding his goat again.

"Xavia, if there was anything we could have done for them, I would have, in a second," Tahir said behind her.

She turned slightly to glance at him. "I know you would have," she replied, smiling slightly, sadly. She just wished there would have been something.

* * *

Well, this chapter was kind of different and fairly irrelevant to the plot, but it was interesting to write so hopefully it was an interesting read as well. Let me know! 


	25. Chapter 25

Shahzad took another step into the sand and into the blinding sunlight. Pausing, he glanced around him as he reached for the water skin at his waist. The Thieves and Nadim were beside him, off to his left murmuring amongst themselves, while the Royal Guard remained uneasily behind, lagging as they hauled the supplies. Foot travel was not going very quickly.

He pulled the stopper out of the skin and held it to his mouth, tilting his head back to take a swig of it. It was warm from the hot sun, but at least it was wet, which was what his parched throat needed. He closed the stopper regretfully, wishing for just one more drink. It wasn't to be, though, not if they were going to get home alive.

Home...it seemed a long, long ways away. The palace was a fuzzy image in his mind, like something out of a dream. Those days sitting on the roof, staring at the city skyline with Faiza and Tahir and later, Xavia. It was so long ago now; he...he missed it—not Tahir and Xavia, of course; he'd never miss them, just the feeling of home. It had been a long time since he'd felt that.

He did wonder, though, how they were faring. If their rations were lowering, if the heat was bothering them as much as it was bothering him, if they were even still alive. They could've died by now; it wasn't unlikely with the amount of water they had to be surviving off of. Their throats would get dry first, scratchy and raw, then the hallucinating, stumbling about moaning and mumbling incoherently, and then they'd lie in the desert, dead, no around to hear them take their last breaths.

He stomped his foot forward again, just to keep moving. That was the key, to just keep walking and never ever stop. Tahir and Xavia didn't matter, no matter how tight his throat got when he thought of their deaths or how hard his fists clenched together. He didn't miss them anyway, only Faiza. Lovely, beautiful Faiza, even in death.

She was so far away, too, though. All the memories of her he could conjure into his mind seemed blurred, marred by the miles upon miles, the sweat and the sting of the sand hitting his skin. It was all there was now. There was the sand and the sun and rationing. Even the Sands of Time had become a mere illusory item now, a fantasy, but nothing tangible or real. And now, it took effort just to recall her face.

He laughed, bitter and hard as tears rolled down his cheeks; it didn't matter, no one was close enough to notice. Wasn't it odd, that the last three mile stretch of desert, which looked like every other part of desert, was more familiar to him than the face of his own love? He laughed more, as he felt his throat muscles tightening more and more. He just missed her, he wanted her back! Was that too much to ask, to have _someone _he cared about not die or turn against him? She wouldn't have ever turned against him; she believed in him.

He choked on his tears, until he caught Nadim glancing at him. He stopped suddenly, standing straighter, forcing himself to blink and swallow and continue forward calmly. Nadim turned back to Jalal again, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was a man, and he was a sultan, not an emotional wreck. He would show that to his men.

He glanced at the Thieves again. They were all talking, Nadim and Jalal laughed together, while he walked alone. His friends, Xavia and Tahir across the desert and the Thieves, right beside him, but still so far away, he'd—he'd driven them all away, so far away—no! They'd left _him. _It was _their_ fault, _theirs_. It didn't really matter, though, he realized now. Either way, whatever had happened, they were still gone and not coming back.

It didn't matter. The Sands of Time were all that mattered now, no matter how far off they seemed. He would find them; he had to. It was his only hope for ruling Arabia, for being as great as his father was, for being...worth something, for once. His only chance.

"What _is_ that?" The Thieves' shouting was a welcome distraction from his own mind. He turned his eyes to them and followed their pointing fingers outward through the sand until he saw what they were looking at.

There was a pile of stones only a short distance in front of them, placed in a ring, a perfect circle on the ground. The center was empty, filled only with more sand. The stones were only slightly darker than the sand that surrounded them, and from here seemed almost speckled to him, like the sand. They were just barely visible to his eyes.

The Thieves walked faster now, half-running and half-stumbling to get a closer look. He altered his course towards them, but kept a steady pace. It was likely just another stone monument, full of empty poems and laments, combined with a brief history lesson on the Sands of Time. It would relate warnings and tales of splendor, but nothing useful.

He reached it quickly, however, just moments behind the Thieves. Nadim was sitting on his knees on the ground and hunched over the stones, already trying to decipher the symbols that were etched carefully into each one.

"Well, what is it?" he asked dryly as the Royal Guard slowly began to gather around, dropping their loads of food and water provisions wherever they deemed fit.

"I don't know; it's not like anything I've ever seen before," Nadim replied, his voice rising in excitement. "The symbols are old, ancient, even more so than the ones on the monument before. It could take me some time to decipher them all."

Shahzad frowned. They didn't _have _some time to spend reading some worthless writing on a couple of slabs of stone. He wasn't going to let what happened with the monument happen again. They'd spent days there, wasting their food and water, while Nadim read the entire thing, and the only useful information they'd gained—which they weren't even positive was true—was that they should go northwest. It was ridiculous.

They walked now, without stopping, to find the Sands of Time, and to keep the desert from unleashing its wrath on them. It was their lot in life. Keeping going was the only way. The desert was a hard master, and it would not wait for them. The heat would get to them; they'd go mad. No, he would not stop this time, like he had before. It was a waste.

"Should we set up camp here, Sir?" Captain Mahmud asked from behind him. Nadim glanced up from the ground as well, to hear his answer. They all stared at him, waiting. He remembered the line in the stand; they'd all stood by him then, and they wanted him to stand with them now, with the decision they'd already made in their minds. He had only to say the words.

No! One chance circumstance didn't make him their puppet. He would not give in to their demands, not ever! This was for their own good anyway, if they wanted to survive. To be a good sultan, a good leader, he had to say no. It was his duty.

"We cannot stay," he said as calmly and evenly as he could manage. "We do not have time to waste our rations as we did at the monument before that told us nothing."

"But, Sha—Sir! This isn't like the monument, not at all!" Nadim said. "It's not a memorial to anything; it couldn't be. Memorials aren't made like this. They would never make one in a ring. Rings were regarded as more sacred than even the most sacred monuments. The Rings of Sand, for example, were sacred. All rings were like that. They're in circles so it signifies never-ending or the everlasting, eternal...but to me, it looks like some sort of device or...something."

"Something?" he asked with sarcasm. Nadim had a tendency to ramble on and on. He just wanted a straight answer about the thing, so they could move on.

"Well, this symbol here, it means...the sea and this one, the mountains, so together, it would mean...far distance, or maybe long way to travel...or, depending on the context, it could mean great conqueror, as well... And next to it is emptiness or space or...I would say door so that would be great conqueror of the door...no, that doesn't make sense, this symbol wouldn't be used with conqueror so it would be—"

"Nadim, for pity's sake, let's just find out what it does, if it really is a device," Jalal spoke then, grinning broadly, and stepped into the middle of the ring of stones.

The sound was nearly deafening. Shahzad took a step back, almost involuntarily. It was a cracking, groaning sound, like the earth was opening up to swallow the stones with Jalal still inside them. There was a light also, bright and glowing gold as the sand surrounding them flew upward, into a sheet around the stones. Jalal raised his eyebrows as the sand started swirling and spiraling around him. Soon it was so thick they couldn't even see him, and the wind that was pushing it all was so strong, it flung them all backward, away from it.

Shahzad was thrown against the ground, staring upward at the whirling column of sand. He had no idea what to do, or if there even _was_ anything to do. They all just stared in amazement at the strange spectacle.

It stayed the same for several moments, loud and roaring with sand flying around it, the noise growing all the while. Eventually it seemed to peak, then die down slowly. The winds weren't quite as high, the sand became thinner, and the noise softer. After a few more seconds, it was over. The stones were exactly as they had been, if perhaps slightly dusted over with a fresh layer of sand.

Jalal, however, was nowhere to be found. His footprints were there, pressed into the sand. The man who had been next to him lifted the chain that had connected them, pulling it towards him away from the ring. There was a clean break where it should have continued onto Jalal. The metal was smooth where it had broken. He dropped the chain again, and it fell to the ground with a slight thud.

"Where did he go?" someone asked incredulously.

"He shouldn't have done that," Nadim said, shaking his head, still staring at the thing. "You don't just walk into things when you don't know what they are, especially when they're rings! Rings are sacred! He should have known that from being around me!"

"But what happened to him? What did it do?" Shahzad asked, turning towards the man.

"It—it—it's a portal," he said slowly, just realizing it. "Of course, it's a portal, what else would it be? I just didn't think they really existed. The mountains and the sea, a long distance and then the door; of course, it's a door that takes you over long distances. I should have thought of that. What was I thinking?"

Shahzad glanced from him to the stones, thinking. A portal that could transport you over long distances. Maybe it could take him close to Tahir and—or the Sands of Time anyhow, Xavia and Tahir were probably close to the Sands of Time if they were still alive. Not that they mattered, but the Sands did. He pursed his lips, then stepped forward, placing both his feet inside.

Everyone stared, eyes wide, then the shouting began. "Sir!" "Your highness!" "Stop!" The guards, the Thieves, they were all screaming at him. "Wait!" Nadim was saying. "You don't know if it works properly..."

Their voices were all lost, swept away in the groaning and howling wind. The sand spiraled around him, as it had for Jalal. He turned around and around in the circle, watching it rise up, forming walls and closing him in. He hoped Nadim was right, and it really was a portal, and he wasn't just going to be smothered. The sand kept its distance, though, staying just outside the stones. Not a speck even touched him.

Before long, it was falling away, making a soft sifting sound against the ground as it dropped. The sun entered his eyes again and there was more sand, but different sand, around him. It seemed almost more vivid than before, a more pure gold, instead of washed out or rusty.

An identical set of stones was around his feet, so closely matched to the others he might have thought he'd never even left. He frowned slightly and stepped outside the circle. Jalal was watching him from a few feet away. The chains dangled from his arms and legs, broken off. "Interesting, isn't it?" he said lightly, in a conversational tone.

Shahzad glanced at him. Interesting was...not quite the word he would have used, though he supposed it was true. "You could say that. Where do you think we are?"

Jalal took a breath and turned his head, looking out towards the horizon. He let out it out in a whistle. "Farther than we were. Deeper into the desert. The sand looks...brighter and the air's thicker, something strange. If I were to guess, I'd say the Sands are out here, somewhere."

Shahzad nodded. "We should keep going from here, then. Maybe it'll make up for the time we lost before and all the horses. Will you see if you can go back that way and tell everyone else to come?"

Jalal watched him for a moment, then nodded. "It will be difficult to drag Nadim away, though," he said with a slight smile. "He'll be kicking and screaming, wanting to decipher every last symbol on each and every one of those stones."

Shahzad laughed. "I know, but drag him anyways. I'm not going to leave him there."

Jalal nodded with an amused smile and stepped back into the circle. Almost immediately the sand started flying up and swirling. "Looks like it works!" he shouted over the wind. Then he was gone.

Shahzad stared at the stones a few more minutes, then turned away again, surveying the new surroundings. Dunes and dunes, in all directions. He smiled slightly. Well, that was his desert, always the same. He wouldn't have it any other way. He paused suddenly, staring at the ground. He dropped to his knees on the sand, bending down over it to get a closer look. He followed with his eyes off into the distance. There were tracks, a trail out far into the distance; a horse had galloped here. They couldn't be far ahead.

* * *

Tahir heard the whoosh of the cloth Xavia was spreading out, as the wind caught in it, attempting to carry it away. She set it down resolutely and walked around it. He could tell, from the direction of her footsteps, that she stopped at each corner to fix it flat against the ground.

"See, it'll be just like a picnic," she said, coming up along side him now. Her breath was warm on his face, though he couldn't see her at the moment.

"Actually, I don't see," he said dryly as another gust of wind blew the sand up and into his face. He dusted it away with the back of his hand, or at least tried to, though much of it still stuck to the sweat. The wind was beginning to concern him. He didn't _think_ there'd be a sand storm, but if there was, it wasn't going to go well for them.

"Well, hear then," Xavia replied. "Come on," she grabbed his arm and he could see her again, bright in the darkness, dragging him over and onto the ground with her. He stumbled and fell, luckily onto the cloth she had laid out for them.

"Now," she started like it was a grand announcement, in a stately tone, "we both get to eat one...part of a dried apricot." She grabbed his larger hand with her smaller one, pushing the apricot piece into his hand and reaching down again, presumably getting one for herself. Her hand was calloused, the skin hardened on the surface. It hadn't been, the first time he'd touched it, however long ago it'd been. He wondered if she minded it or the burn that still had to be red on her forearm, marking her as a criminal. If she did, she never mentioned it.

He held the apricot, quite smaller than the palm of his hand, and their one meal for the day. He glanced at Xavia. She seemed none the worse for the lack of food and, smiling at him, took a dainty bite out of her piece, slowly chewing it as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. Her optimism today was almost unbelievable, considering their circumstance.

She was intoxicating, though, and the mood was spreading to him, as he laughed at her antics. "And we're sitting down for this?" he asked her, plopping the piece whole into his mouth at once. He chewed for a moment, tasting the fruity, sweet flavor, before swallowing.

"It's the principal of the thing," Xavia explained, taking another tiny bite out of her fruit. "We're having a nice meal together, however small that nice meal may be. And we're enjoying the sunshine." She put the rest of the apricot in her mouth and leaned back on her palms, tilting her head back towards the sky. "It's a lovely day in the desert...just like everyday, actually, but lovely all the same, and I mean to enjoy it. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, and the sand is...flying at us, but also more gold and prettier than I've seen it before. We'd kill for days like this at home in the summer, my sisters and I."

Tahir nodded, watching her. She seemed to think for a few moments with a far away look in her eyes, as she bit her lip slightly. It was odd thinking of her home and how very different everything was there, the climate in particular. "Everyday is the same here. I guess we start to take it for granted, that the sun will shine. When you have something all the time, you start to forget that you might not. I did miss it, when I was in your country."

She smiled slightly, still looking up dreamily at the sky. After a moment, she looked at him again, nodding. "Yes, the sun is nice here, even if it is too hot. I do miss the water, though. I'm afraid we take that for granted at home." She laughed slightly, then sighed. "I'm so thirsty here, all the time; it feels like my throat is dry and cracking."

"Well, we haven't had our water yet today," Tahir said, getting to his feet. "Let's drink it." He brushed off some of the sand that had blown onto him while they were sitting and stepped over to the horse, feet sinking into the loose sand as he went. He lifted his hand and felt along the smooth, sleek coat of their horse. It was hot—too hot, really, but he'd given the horse water this morning, and he couldn't afford to give it any more.

He reached into the saddlebag, feeling for the water skins. The first one he picked up was empty; he could tell without opening it. The weight was that of only the skin, no water inside it. The second was the same. Finally, he found the third. Not empty. But it was light—too light. There couldn't be more than a few swallow-fulls left inside. He shook it slightly, trying to measure just how much there was. Not enough, that was for sure. Jiggling it hardly made a difference.

He glanced at Xavia, still sitting patiently, waiting for him. Unless they reached the other monument by tomorrow, it wouldn't go well for them. And then there was getting home...

She was glancing at him now. He opened the stopper and raised it to his lips, tilting his head back slightly, but not enough for any of it to come out. If one of them didn't make it, he would make sure that it wasn't her. He wasn't going to watch her get dehydrated and go mad, and then die with nothing he could do for her, even if it meant his own life.

Besides, they'd have a better chance of getting to the monument if just one of them was drinking. The way he saw it, they would get there in three or four days. If everything went right, he wouldn't be dead then, just very sick. But the point was, he'd be well enough so they'd both be there to turn the key and spill the Sands. It would be alright.

He closed the stopper again, his throat still dry and parched, and tossed the skin to her. "Don't drink much, there's hardly any left. After it's gone, there's nothing else."

Her eyes widened slightly. She seemed to pale, even in the bright sunlight. "Well, are you sure we shouldn't save it, I mean, maybe if we only took a drink every other day, or—"

"Just take a drink," he interrupted, cutting into her sentence. He didn't want her questioning him, he wasn't going to tell her what he was doing. She'd just worry about him or refuse to drink if he wasn't, and he didn't need that now. After the dream...he was already tense enough about anything happening to her, he didn't need to be worried about her getting dehydrated, too.

She was looking at him worriedly, and he realized he'd sounded rather harsh, almost yelling when he cut into her sentence. She was bound to think something was wrong with him. He didn't want her guessing about it. "I'm sorry," he said, "just...have a drink. It'll be fine."

She nodded slightly and took out the stopper, taking a short drink before throwing it back to him. Catching it, he put it back, carefully placing it in the saddlebag. It was their most important possession now. Without, it they had no chance. With it, they still had very little chance, but that was better than nothing.

"We should get going," he said.

She nodded and stood up, gathering the cloth in her arms and putting it in the saddlebag. He mounted and helped her up, and they were off again.

* * *

I happened to not have to do anything in one of my classes, so I wrote almost half of this chapter. It was exciting. Did you like it? Did Shahzad seem a bit too pity-party-ish in the beginning? What did you think of the portals? Will Xavia and Tahir survive? I hope it was interesting, we're kind of at an aimless wandering section in the story, which makes it kind of difficult to write, but interesting things will be happening very soon, I promise. Now you know you want to review to answer my questions. :D 


	26. Chapter 26

Her fingers worked hard at the knots that strapped the saddlebags onto the saddle; her concentration was entirely fixed on it. She carefully dug her fingernails into the tight knot, slowly and purposefully pulling one string away from the rest. After that, it was easy. Loosened, the rest of it slid apart simply, and she pulled the bags away, tossing them quickly into the loose sand. She undid the saddle as well, throwing it towards the bags.

It landed with a thud, some distance away. She sighed slightly and wiped the sweat off of her forehead. It felt odd leaving everything behind, but they would be better off without it, now. "Everything we don't need," she said, turning to Tahir, who was standing beside her. "It should be a lot faster this way, with only the reins. It had to be heavy for the horse, weighing him down. You still have the key and ring?"

He nodded slowly, almost lethargically, and she noticed for the first time how flushed his face was. She frowned slightly, examining him closely. His eyes couldn't seem to focus right; he kept blinking, over and over as sweat dripped down his forehead. Well, that was to be expected; it was hot, they were both sweating profusely and at least somewhat dehydrated. It was probably nothing. Still, he looked worse than usual.

"Well...good," she said at last, glancing up at the sky. The sun was moving higher already. It wasn't going to be a pleasant afternoon for them. They had no food, no water, nothing. But Tahir said they'd get to the monument today, so they'd get there. Then they could ride to the sea, or maybe Shahzad had caught up with them, or they'd find an oasis somewhere. It would be alright, somehow. She knew it would; it always was with Tahir.

"We should be going, then," she said, turning to Tahir again.

He nodded again and rubbed his fingers over his forehead, pressing down as he shut his eyes. After a moment, he moved to get on the horse. He sprang up easily, even without the saddle. His movement, though seemed...slow and heavy, like it took almost too much effort for him to muster.

It bothered her. Tahir was always quick and nimble on his feet, not plodding and crawling like this. Even when she could tell he was tired, he wasn't _this _slow. He had no reason to be more tired than usual; they'd gotten plenty of sleep last night and had both drank a drop or so of the water, to finish it off. _She_ didn't feel that bad.

"Tahir, are you alright?" she asked, looking up at him, as she held onto the horse and tried to pull herself up onto its back. It was harder than it seemed. She'd never ridden bareback before, and she wasn't entirely sure that she liked it. "You don't look very well."

He helped her, grabbing hold of her waist and dragging her up to sit in front of him. It seemed difficult for him, though. He winced slightly as his muscles flexed with her weight. "I have a headache," he answered, once she was comfortably situated and looking back at him. "I'll be fine."

She didn't reply at first, but stayed looking at him for a moment. His skin was dry and his face shone with sweat, but he looked her in the eye, without turning away. She always trusted him when he looked her in the eye. If he said he'd be fine, he'd be fine. She nodded and turned to face forward, finding the reins and handing them back to him.

He flicked them lightly and the horse started running again, hooves treading lightly into the sand as it went, on and on. She kept her eyes on the horizon, looking out in front and to the sides, searching for the monument. They were going to find it today. She was sure of it. They'd done everything right, they'd come the right distance, the right direction, the right timing. Sometime today they'd get there, probably earlier than later, since they'd gotten up to start going before dawn some days, to get a head start. Before long, they'd be there.

The scenery was bright. The horizon was pretty, out in the distance, the sand slowly meeting the sun, a million miles from them, gold meeting sapphire. She kept her eye out, searching for some abnormality there: a darker spot, a tower, reaching up to the sky. She kept watching, watching. It went on for miles, sand and sky, sand and sky, everywhere she looked. Everything seemed to fade together as the miles wore on, into a single picture that was always the same. Sand and sky.

She began to lean back, her gaze faltering as her head dipped and her eyes drooped, wearied from the hot sun and everlasting sand. Tahir, though, was uncomfortably hot to lean against. Heat seemed to be radiating from him, warming her back and burning into her. She could feel his heartbeat as well, hard and fast, pulsing out from his chest, almost faster than the pound of the horse's hooves beneath them.

"Tahir," she said, sitting up slightly and spacing herself apart from him, "are you sure you're—" she turned around then to look at him, just in time to see him lean over, far to his right and simply topple off the horse. She stared for a moment, as he fell onto the ground, landing hard on his right shoulder. He rolled a ways in the sand, then stopped and lay, unmoving. After a moment, she realized that _she _was still going on with the horse and leaving him behind. She screamed for a brief moment, then, realizing she wasn't helping the situation, turned and grabbed the reins, pulling back firmly.

The horse quickly slowed, prancing in the sand, then stopped altogether. She pulled the reins again, to one side, guiding the horse to turn around and walk slowly back towards Tahir. As soon as she was close enough she jumped off and ran to Tahir, dropping to her knees beside him, still grasping the reins in her right hand, the horse hovering close by.

His breathing was coming hard, rasping as he inhaled. Besides his ragged breathing, he was still, lying stationary against the sand. She raised her hand and touched his forehead lightly; it was so hot, almost scorching. She took her hand away again, biting her lip.

For a moment, she thought of the plague, but no, he had no spots on his skin. "Tahir," she said at last, "what's...what's wrong with you?"

He seemed surprised by her voice and his eyes roamed over the area, area that could only be blackness to him, searching for her. After a moment, his eyes finally focused on her and stayed there, fixated. "Xavia," he said, in between breaths.

She nodded again when he didn't go on. "I'm here." She reached forward again and put her hand lightly on his arm, though the touch was searing.

He grabbed her arm suddenly, as tightly as he could manage, his eyes meeting hers intensely. "You have to go on," he said, still breathing hard. "Find water...for yourself."

She frowned slightly, arching her brows. "But...we have to find the monument, together like...like we've planned, all along." He couldn't mean to just...leave him here, could he? She wouldn't do that, she wasn't going to, no matter what he said!

"Xavia," he started again. His breathing was beginning to slow down to a normal rate now. That was good, she told herself. He would be alright. "I didn't drink the water. This is my third day without any. There wasn't enough for both of us to make it. I thought...I thought we'd get there by now."

She opened her mouth, then shut it again, realizing just what he was saying. He hadn't had water for three days! Well, no wonder he was sick! If it was her, she'd probably be dead by now. She had no idea how he'd managed this long...but he was telling her to leave. He'd thought they'd have got there by now...he was saying he wasn't going to make it...but that wasn't right! "But we're going to get there!" she practically shouted at him. "We...we must be close by now and you...you're breathing normally now, you're not dead yet! We can still make it!"

He looked at her. That was all; he didn't even reply. It made her want to cry. But she wouldn't! She swallowed back all the threatening tears and forced herself to be angry at him instead. Anger was better than crying; anger was motivating. "This isn't you!" she screamed at him, as loud as she could raise her voice. "You don't give up! You didn't give up when we got locked up in the dungeons, or when the Thieves were all railing against you and Nadim's theories, or when Shahzad dragged us through the desert, or—or," she searched for other circumstances she could throw at him. Suddenly one struck her, as a blush heightened the flush that was likely already turning her cheeks scarlet. "Or when I told you repeatedly I didn't love you and wasn't ever going to! You still, aggravatingly, kept insisting that you loved me, so I'm not going to just let you give up on life! Now get up!"

Her vocal chords were burning by now from all the shouting, and Tahir was looking at her oddly, but she really didn't care. She stood up and grabbed his arm, yanking on it as hard as she could, pulling him at least onto his knees. He winced as she did so, and she realized that was the arm he'd landed on and she probably shouldn't try to injure him anymore than he already was.

"Sorry," she said, more quietly now, as she bent beside him on her knees. "Come on?" she pleaded with him, looking him in the eye.

After a moment he nodded and put a hand on her shoulder, to help push himself into a standing position. Once there he stood, blinking dizzily for a few seconds. He rubbed his forehead again, pressing into his temples.

She pursed her lips hoping he wouldn't change his mind. She didn't think he would now, but getting to the horse could be a problem. "Put your arm around my shoulders," she instructed him, "I'll help you get over there. Then all you have to do is get on the horse and we can go. I'll hold the reins; it'll be easy."

He nodded again and did as he was told, placing his arm over her shoulders, lightly at first, but then pressing down harder as they started walking. They went slowly, inching forward one foot at a time, occasionally pausing when it made him dizzy.

"Well, this is embarrassing," Tahir said, then stopped walking altogether, trying to catch his breath.

Xavia smiled slightly, looking ahead. The horse couldn't have been more than ten feet away by now, maybe less. They should have been able to get there easily. "You shouldn't have stopped drinking the water," she said, glancing sideways at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, "Don't try to defend yourself; you might stop breathing again. And I know why you did it, but that doesn't make it any more reasonable. Besides, I wouldn't have been _that _bad off. And you would have been far better. We might not be having all this trouble until tomorrow at least."

Tahir glanced at her, looking amused, as they stopped in front of the horse. He took his arm away from her shoulders then and stood still for a moment, like he was concentrating hard.

Xavia bit her lip, glancing from him to the horse. She wasn't sure if he'd be able to get up. She could hardly get up herself, and there wasn't anything wrong with her. She certainly wasn't strong enough to try and pull him up.

He seemed unfazed, however, and stepped forward by himself, placing his hands on the horse's smooth, black coat. He moved his hands gently upward until they rested on top of the horse's back. He gripped its mane, holding it tightly in his fists, one arm close to him and one on the other side. Slowly but surely he pulled himself up, slinging one leg over to the other side and maneuvering into a sitting position. He glanced back at her.

She nodded slightly and stepped forward. Now she had to get up, without his help. It had the potential to be quite difficult. However, she followed his example and made it without too much trouble, sitting behind him. With the reins in hand, she kicked her heels gently into the horse's sides, and once again, they were moving.

She kept the lookout still, for that black spot on the horizon, for the monument. It would be there. They'd find it. They'd turn the key together and spill the Sands of Time, wherever they were buried. Arabia would be healed, at last. She smiled a bit, thinking of it. They'd be heroes, like in the stories she used to read. Being a hero came at a greater cost than she'd realized, though. It wasn't nearly so glamorous as she'd thought and it could hurt, badly.

When she thought of Shahzad and his Faiza and Rashid, everything that had spent him spiraling downhill, of that poor old man, one of the Thieves that had his life taken from him, ripped away, of the mark that was burnt into her forearm...she touched it now, running her fingers over the red scar. Yes, having an adventure came with a price.

They were coming to the good part, though, the best part. They'd save the day against all odds, for the good of all Arabia, hopefully. And the monument! She was excited just to see it. It was so old, and it had such tremendous power. She wished that she could read the ancient writing that would no doubt be inscribed on it, to see what all it said, about the Sands, about how things were before they were lost, about...everything of ancient Arabia. It seemed that Nadim was rubbing off on her.

Tahir was leaning forward, practically slumped over the horse's neck now. Xavia watched him carefully, checking to be sure he was still breathing and not going to tumble onto the ground again. He seemed to be fine, though she wasn't sure how comfortable he could be. It worried her, though. Tahir wasn't one to sleep while they were moving; _she _was the one who did that. What if...what if he didn't wake up again? She didn't know what she'd do.

She heard him take a breath again, breathing in and out, slowly and methodically. It reassured her, at least somewhat. He was perfectly fine. as far as going three days without water went, anyways. She wasn't sure how fine that really meant, but there wasn't much to be done about it but ride on.

And ride on she did. Through the sand dunes, blowing lightly in the breeze, on and on. She felt like she was riding through a sea of gold, the way it never ended. She could fancy that the dunes were waves, bobbing and crashing against the wind. It reminded her of the ship she'd sailed to Arabia in, with Afzal. She wondered how he was faring, at the palace with Khalid.

The sea had been lovely. It was the best thing about the voyage, staring at the sea, hearing the gulls with their piercing cries, flying and diving into the water. Besides that, she remembered the dreams. She'd had too many of them, and they were too quick and violent. They'd scared her.

She wasn't as scared now, not when she had the dreams or...with anything. She hadn't been, really, since she moved into the pyramid...since she'd been with Tahir. He made her feel safer, somehow. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

She glanced at him, in front of her. She closed her eyes briefly and listened to him breathing, seeing him the way he always saw her, a constant other breath, a presence. She smiled slightly as she opened her eyes. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing, to feel safe around him. She liked being around him, even when he wasn't saying anything. He was her friend.

She hadn't had very many friends before she came to Arabia. It wasn't that she didn't like people, she just didn't know very many people very well; she wasn't allowed to. Then there came Shahzad and then Tahir, and Nadim, and Jalal, all of the Thieves. They were all her friends. She hadn't ever really been close to anyone the way she was with Tahir, though.

She bit one of her nails, looking out at the horizon again, trying to put the subject from her mind. You couldn't very easily travel a fortnight with someone and _not _get to be close friends with them, could you? She didn't think so...but that was _not_ putting the subject from her mind.

She looked at the sky, up at the sun. It was sinking farther towards the horizon as the day was wearing on. They _had _to find the monument _today_. She kicked her heels into the horse again, spurring it onward, at a faster speed. It didn't seem like it sped up much.

Tahir sat up suddenly, slightly. He turned around, just enough to look at her, but his eyes were wild, blinking and moving quickly in strange patterns, everywhere at once. "Xavia," he said, his voice throaty and uneven. "Water...we have to...water." He turned around again and waved his arm about in front of him. "Water...water..." he kept repeating, over and over.

She frowned slightly, saying nothing. Of course they needed water, but she couldn't help that.

"Right...in front...of us," he half-shouted at her, turning again. "Water..."

She glanced ahead again. There was no water, just sand piled upon sand every way she looked. He was probably delirious. She knew people could get delirious without water, but she didn't know what to do about it.

"Water...Xavia..." he dropped down, slumping forward again, then shot up again, nearly jumping into the air. "Shahzad!" he screamed. "No...don't listen...he's not...water...Xavia..."

The rest was lost as he fell forward, muttering incoherently about sand and water and Shahzad. He seemed to fall into a more unconscious state then and stopped moving, but he didn't stop talking. She couldn't quite tell any of what he was saying, but he mumbled on and on. Occasionally she heard her own name or Shahzad's, or something about the Sands, but mostly nothing. Just his voice went on, speaking words only he could understand.

She pursed her lips together, pressing them as tight as she could. Delirium was one of the last stages of dehydration; she'd read that somewhere, a long time ago. She wished she could remember what to do about it, instead of just the fact. They _had _to find the monument and quickly!

And then what? The realization swept over her suddenly, that finding the monument wouldn't help Tahir live. Even with the Sands of Time spilled, she'd still be in the same position: stuck, with Tahir dying as she watched and nowhere for them to go. She didn't even know positively that they were going the right way.

Maybe that was why they hadn't found the monument, maybe they were way off course, maybe they'd never even been going the right way to begin with! She'd never be able to ride for the sea without knowing her directions! Not that the sea would even help; they couldn't drink seawater! Her breath started coming faster now, heart pounding. There was no one around to her help her, and she was scared.

She took a deep breath, pushing the air in and out of her lungs. So there was no around to help. That was alright, she would—she would—oh goodness, she had no idea what she would do! She didn't know anything about—about surviving! Alone in the desert, with no water. They were doomed! She'd watch Tahir die and then die herself.

She took another breath, trying to stop her panic. They weren't going to die. They would...well, first they would find the monument. That was still the important thing, to get there, and then she would figure out something, somehow. She just had to find the monument. She closed her eyes, clearing her mind of everything else.

If they _had_ gone off course...they'd probably gone more northwest instead of straight north. Yes, she could remember times going more towards the sun than they probably should have; she'd turn slightly east. They'd get there.

She used the reins to steer the horse around, switching their course slightly. They would find it. On the horizon, the sun was beginning to sink beneath the sand. She bit her lip and flicked the reins.

The sky turned orange and red and pink, a beautiful rainbow of colors. The sand reflected it back at the sky, like the whole world was simply a blaze of fire. Tahir grew quiet at last, until the only sound was their breathing and the clip of the horse's hooves, pounding into the ground. She wouldn't stop for nightfall.

She started crying when the stars came out, sparkling high in the sapphire heavens. She didn't want to see stars, she wanted to see the monument! At least they lit everything up brightly, so she'd still be able to see it, when she found it. If she found it.

At that thought, a new flood of tears came unleashed, pouring out of her eyes. There weren't as many tears as she would have thought, though. She kept crying, but they stopped coming. She was losing her body water. She swallowed and looked out, desperately searching.

She wished Tahir was awake; he'd say something to make her feel better. But he wasn't awake, and he wasn't going to wake up. She was alone. She looked up at the stars, twinkling down at her. She saw her X, shining brightly. Her own, personal, Arabian constellation. She laughed, but it came as more of a choking sob, and she cried some more.

Everything was a pale blue-grey when she woke up. It was barely dawn, and she was leaning against Tahir's back, still sitting on the horse. Her thighs were burning, and when she straightened and sat up, her back began to ache.

It seemed quiet, too quiet. She panicked for a moment and was perfectly still, trying to hear Tahir breathing. If he was dead...no, she could hear him. His breaths were uneven, though, first short, then long and rasping. He felt even hotter when she touched him, like a blazing fire, and he wasn't even sweating anymore. That couldn't be a good sign.

She pursed her lips and glanced around her. She was disoriented now; she had no idea which way to go, or...if there was even any point anymore. She pursed her lips, trying to gather her thoughts. They had to keep going. The sun burst over the horizon suddenly, showering her eyes and mind in light. It seemed to happen all at once, shooting light up from beyond the world. When the light touched the sky, it touched everything. The sand was brighter, everything was bolder, touched by the pure golden light.

She took a breath and looked around again, twisting from her seat on the horse. Then she saw it. On her left, a black splotch. When she focused on it, she could tell it was taller than wider, sticking up out of the sand. She took a breath, smiling slightly. The monument, she'd found it! They'd spill the sands; everything would be alright!

Tahir took a breath, ragged, and gasping. He didn't take another. She waited, then grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backward against her, so she could see his face. "Tahir," she whispered urgently, holding her breath. She lifted her hand, smoothed his hair back, then dropped further down his cheek, running her fingers over his skin. After a moment, she quickly dropped her hand to her side. "Tahir, please!" she said, louder now, pleading with him to live. He took a breath. And another. He kept breathing, evenly now.

She sighed in relief, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. He was breathing, he was alright...but how much longer?

She looked to her right this time. There was another spot, but wider this time. She looked closer, staring for a few minutes and blinking, trying to focus. It was people, people walking. Who would be walking in the desert but Shahzad? Shahzad and the Royal Guard and the Thieves; it had to be them.

They had water. They had food. If she went back to them, they could save Tahir's life, maybe. They might give him water, let him sit in the tent, in the shade. They could make him better. He would wake up again, and she could talk to him again, see him well again.

But the monument...she glanced back at it. If they didn't get there now, they never would. They couldn't pull the same trick for running away again; it wouldn't work. They'd be guarded heavier this time, and it was too close; Shahzad would find out what they were doing. He'd stop them. This was their only chance for it. If they did it the other way, somebody would have to die.

Tahir wouldn't make it all the way to the monument _and_ back to Shahzad. It was too far; she could only just see both of them, and their horse was moving much slower than it had been. The horse might not even make it both ways. She had to choose: Tahir or spilling the Sands of Time, and quickly.

She looked from one to the other and back again. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't had to make decisions like this before; Tahir had always done it, not her! She didn't know! She felt the back of her throat tighten. She swallowed. She wanted someone to decide for her; she couldn't do it.

But there wasn't anyone else. She'd already established that yesterday, there was no one who could help her now. It was her choice, her call. She looked at the monument. It was dark, probably tall and grand; it could save Arabia, heal all those people.

Then she looked down at Tahir, listened to his breathing, hoarse, difficult. She choked back a sob, hanging her head down and closing her eyes. She listened, to the wind, to his unsteady breaths, seeing the way he saw. She bit her lip again, taking a deep breath and lifting up her head. He might sacrifice his life for Arabia, but she wouldn't. She turned her horse to the right.

* * *

This was a long chapter, but I really wanted to get to this point. Hopefully nobody here really detests long chapters? Anyway, you should review because I updated reasonably finally! And I will hopefully continue to do so! And it was great, so you just want to comment on how much you loved it, right:D 


	27. Chapter 27

He stared out at the horizon, carefully watching the horse and rider that was drawing nearer by the moment. He couldn't make out their features, or if there was one or two riders; they were just a dark outline against the brighter sky and sand, but he didn't think he needed to see to know who it was. Who would possibly be riding a horse out in the desert but Tahir and Xavia? He only wondered why they were coming back. Had they found the Sands of Time already and spilled them, somewhere far away? 

He clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes at them. He didn't see how they'd survived. They should have been dead, with the tiny amount of water they'd taken with them. Well, he wouldn't give them any more when they got to him. They could get home themselves if they'd come this far already. They'd left him, so they obviously didn't need his help.

He glanced around at the camp. The Royal Guard still went about their business, finishing packing up the rations and unpacking bedrolls. They were going to rest during midday, then start walking again in the evening, when the sun wasn't so glaring. Occasionally one of the guards would turn from his duties to look at the traveler, then at him, before returning to his work. They thought he cared, if it really was Tahir and Xavia. Well, he didn't, not at all. He didn't even need to be watching; it didn't matter to him.

He turned around and walked back into his tent. It was considerably cooler in there and much more comfortable anyhow. He sat down cross-legged on the sand, with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands. After a moment, he sat up straighter and took some sand in his right hand, watching as it slipped through his fingers, falling away, lost. Slipping right through his fingers...just like other things had slipped through his fingers...people, like Faiza, like—he stood up suddenly and walked out of the tent, throwing the flap out of his way.

He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now. They always led him to places he didn't want to go, memories he didn't want to recall. He hated resting and thinking. It always brought him back to Faiza, to his father, to Tahir and Xavia. That night when he told Khalid of their plans, or when he ordered Tahir beaten, or that man killed. He swallowed back his tightened throat, shaking his head lightly. He couldn't take any of it back; he could only try his best to block it from his mind. Maybe that was what bothered him the most.

After a moment, he glanced at the Thieves, sitting together on the sand, staring out to the east, where the rider was coming from. With a sigh, he did the same, leaning against a water barrel. This one was still full, one of their last. They had another one like it, he thought, and another at least halfway full. They wouldn't run out of water anytime _very _soon, but if they kept going for too long, it wouldn't last. It worried him, when they didn't really know where they were going or how long it might take.

Looking at the horse again, he could see for certain that there were two people on it now, but one was slumped down, over the horse's neck, leaning against its mane. He pushed himself up to stand straighter, one hand gripping tightly to the edge of the barrel, the other above his eyes, shielding them from the sun. Tahir was the slumped one; Xavia held onto the reins. She seemed to be trying her hardest to get the horse to go faster, but it would only walk.

He pursed his lips, watching them. Was Tahir...dead? He hadn't thought they would survive, but that didn't mean he _wanted _his best friend to—but Tahir was _not_ his best friend. Tahir was just a—a problem, an obstacle between him and the Sands of Time. But everything he'd done with Tahir, running around the marketplace with Faiza, sparring together, acting like fools...would it all be gone now, just a memory, like Faiza?

No, not like Faiza, _please_, not like Faiza, he couldn't take that again! He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Tahir was his enemy. The man had chosen that, the day he'd taken Xavia away from the palace, to the pyramid. Tahir didn't think he was good enough to take care of her. He'd brainwashed her, turned her to his side. And then she'd ran off with him, to find the Sands together themselves, without him. He wasn't good enough to be with them. They'd chosen to be against him. So he'd made his own resolve. Whatever was wrong with Tahir, whatever they wanted, whatever Xavia begged him for, he wouldn't give it to them. That was his choice, his right, as the sultan.

He could see them better now. Xavia's curls of red-gold hair, mussed and flying out from the ribbon they were tied in, the bright sheen of the horse's black coat, covered in sweat, Tahir's bent back. They were close now, but the horse looked almost ready to collapse; every step it took landed heavily, thudding into the ground, raising a cloud of sand around its legs.

The Thieves had stood up and were pointing and clamoring together now, in worried, confused tones. "Xavia!" Nadim shouted out to her, trying to get her attention.

She ignored them; either she didn't hear them, or she was concentrating too hard on getting there to bother with replying. She kept urging the horse on, though just lifting its hooves off the ground seemed to be taking a hard toll on it. She glanced down at Tahir occasionally, biting her lip with concern.

She looked at him, then; her green eyes meeting his and locking on to them. He could see she was scared and desperate, at her wits' end; coming to him had to have been her last resort, and she was pleading with him to help her. He couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from her. Something in her eyes, her...emotion...it caught him and held him there, in her gaze. He swallowed.

After a moment, she looked down at Tahir again, and he looked away, shaking his head and staring determinedly down at the sand by his feet. Xavia...Xavia didn't need him, she didn't want him, that's why she'd left. She couldn't just come back here and expect him help her! After a moment, he looked up again, slowly raising his eyes from his feet upward, careful not to look her in the eye again.

She'd evidently decided she was close enough now and was getting off the horse. She slid down slowly, careful to make sure Tahir didn't fall. Once she was standing on the ground, she put her arms around his chest, pulling him off the horse. After he was off, she staggered under his weight, before almost dropping him to the ground and falling down next to him.

Nadim and Jalal started to go to her, stepping away from their chained friends. He held his arm out to his side, palm outward, next to them. "Don't go to her," he commanded stolidly.

They glanced at him, then at each other, hesitating. For a moment, he thought they'd disobey his orders and go anyway. He waited. Finally they fell back among the rest of their friends, watching and waiting to see what he would do.

When Xavia had Tahir settled on the sand, she glanced at him again, biting her lip nervously. She got off the ground and started walking towards him, at a brisk pace, though not running yet, like she was trying to maintain a level of pride. She ran a hand through her hair also, fingering her tendrils, trying to fix her appearance.

When she glanced back at Tahir, though, still lying in a heap on the sand, she took a sharp breath and started running, forgetting her hair and her pride, simply rushing to get to him as fast as she could. She stopped in front of him, breathing hard and face flushed. "Shahzad—" she spoke his name between panicked breaths, reaching out to grab his hands in her own.

He took a step backwards, recoiling from her. If she touched him, if she begged him enough, he might give into her. He wasn't going to give into her. "So you came back," he said coldly, not daring to look her in the eyes.

She ignored his reaction to her touch and to his cold greeting and simply went on with what she had to say. "Shahzad, Tahir is dying! This is his fourth day without any water, if he doesn't get some soon—" Her voice was high-pitched and coming fast, like water breaking out of a dam, rushing into a canyon. He wasn't going to let her get the best of him, though. She'd left him; she'd chosen Tahir over him. She thought he was cruel and crazy, not at all in control of his emotions. But he was, and that was why he wouldn't be moved by her.

"And what do you expect me to do about it?"

He glanced at her face long enough to see the look that crossed it for a fleeting moment. She blinked, like she'd been slapped in the face, like he'd just crushed all of her hopes in a second, without her even realizing that he'd held them. She hadn't thought that he would refuse her. Or if she did, she'd somehow convinced herself that he wouldn't, because her need was so dire, because Tahir was dying, because he's told her he wanted to be his wife once. However, she'd thought of it, she'd thought she was going to win him over. Well, she'd thought wrong.

The look was gone after a moment, replaced with a more determined one. She was convinced that she could convince him, but she wouldn't. He wouldn't let her. "Shahzad...he was your best friend; you can't just let him die!"

He looked past her at Tahir, unmoving in the sand. The marketplace, the rooftops...never seeing Tahir again...he looked at Xavia, watching him closely, seeing if what she said had the right effect on him. He thought of what she'd said. _He was your best friend. _He almost laughed. She'd given him the answer to denying her. "Was," he said. "He _was, _yes, but that was in the past. Not now, not anymore." He shook his head and turned, walking a few steps away from her. "I'm through with this conversation," he said, glancing back at her.

He meant it, too. It wasn't another futile attempt at getting to leave him alone, to stop his emotions from running away with him. No. He wasn't going to talk to her anymore. He was done. He turned and started towards his tent.

Something in her broke at that moment. However she'd thought she could change his mind, she didn't think so anymore. He heard a choking sob come from her, then a gasping breath followed by more sobbing. He turned slightly, to look at her. She was looking back at Tahir, one hand fluttering by her eye, trying to brush away the tears that were falling freely down her face.

She turned toward him abruptly, catching his eye, not trying to change him anymore, just...broken. "If he dies...I don't know what I...I can't...it was all for nothing—I thought..." words were spilling out of her incoherently, but it was her eyes that got to him. The...desperation in them. She'd do anything for him to live, but there wasn't anything left for her to do. It reminded him of...of himself, before Faiza died. Out digging for hours in the sand, looking for the Sands of Time when there was nothing there, nothing he could do.

All Xavia needed was water. Was he going to deny her the only thing he'd wanted, to save the one person he cared more for than anyone else in the world? But...she wasn't supposed to care for Tahir more than anyone else! She'd betrayed him by going with Tahir, she—she—

"Shahzad," she spoke his name again, more earnestly now. She wasn't trying to manipulate him or make him pity her now, she just wanted to save Tahir. "Shahzad, we need you to help us. We can't get water anywhere else; we—we _need_ you."

He looked at her, directly in the eyes. They..._needed_ him? No one ever needed him. He was a fool of a sultan, and he'd never been much help to the Forty Thieves, but she...she said they needed him. He could help them now, when no one else could. He pursed his lips, thinking of Faiza, thinking of his father.

He drew a breath. He wouldn't let Tahir die like them, not when he could have stopped it, could have saved him. _He could save him._ The idea sounded good in his mind. He could be worth something, somehow, in some small way. He could save his old friend. The Royal Guard had conveniently all gathered around them, to better hear what was happening. "Go get him," he said, glancing at Captain Mahmud. "Put him in my tent, keep him cool, and give him water. Make sure he lives."

"Yes, sir," came the general reply.

He glanced at Xavia in front of him, tears still in her eyes, but she looked happier now, though still tired and worn. She was probably only barely better off than Tahir. "You should get water and rest yourself; you don't look very well," he said.

She nodded, brushing some of the tears from her cheek. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She smiled at him then, really smiled. It lit up her whole face, the way a small fire can light a whole room, and he found himself smiling back at her. He hadn't smiled in a long time.

* * *

Xavia pulled her blanket closer around her shoulders, readjusting herself in the sand. It was nighttime now, and all the stars were out, shining above her. The Thieves and the Royal Guard were sleeping all over the camp, each with their own bedrolls sprawled out in the sand. They had been going to sleep during the day, they'd said, but with her and Tahir coming, they weren't able to.

She felt odd with them sleeping all around her, hearing all of their breathing patterns, but not Tahir's, or at least not well enough to pick his out. She felt odd not sleeping next to him. She felt herself blush slightly. She'd have to get over that; even if things had gone better, it wasn't as if she would always be able to sleep next to him. Eventually she'd go home, and he'd stay here, in Arabia. She probably wouldn't ever see him again.

She wasn't thirsty anymore. They'd given her plenty of water, and she'd rested most of the afternoon but never really got any sleep. Once everyone else was asleep, she'd dragged her bedroll over to the tent and was sitting with her back to it. Tahir was in there, and she sat there still, wanting to hear his voice, know that he was alright. If she could just hear his voice then she could go to sleep.

She tugged on the blanket again, feeling cold. The other men sleeping weren't using their blankets at all. It was hot; she knew that, but still, she felt cold, and she wanted to wrap herself tightly and curl up to sleep. But she couldn't sleep, she'd been trying to sleep all afternoon; it just didn't come to her.

She heard a noise; footsteps coming towards her. She glanced around quickly. It was Nadim, pulling his bedroll along with him. She watched him come closer and drop down beside her, smiling slightly. "Hello, Xavia," he said, making himself comfortable.

"Hello, Nadim," she said, smiling at him, then wincing. He was the one who'd told them about the monument, where to go and how to find it, what to do once they got there, but they hadn't done it. They'd failed, and it was her fault. She'd chosen not to, and she hadn't told any of the Thieves yet. She wasn't sure what to say.

"So...what exactly happened out there?" he asked, looking at her. "I'm guessing everything didn't go quite as planned."

She sighed, feeling the air rush out of her lungs. "I saw the monument," she started.

"You did?" Nadim interrupted, whispering excitedly, before she could go on. "Did you get to it? What did it look like? Did you find the place and turn the key? Do you think you spilled the Sands of Time?"

His questions came fast, rushing out at her, making her feel all the more guilty. Maybe she'd made the wrong choice. Maybe she should have gone to the monument. What was one man's life compared to the lives of all Arabians? But...it was _Tahir's _life. He was...she couldn't just...Nadim was watching her, waiting for an answer. "I didn't go to the monument," she said at last. "I saw it, but I came back instead. Tahir was unconscious by then; he'd stopped breathing once and I was so...so scared. I saw the monument, but I could see the camp, too, and I...I wanted him to live. He wouldn't have made it both ways."

She paused, swallowing and waiting for Nadim's reply. She didn't see how he could be happy with her. Spilling the Sands would have been so easy for them. They could all have gone home. They'd be through with wandering in the desert, through with rationing all their food and water, through with being in the sweltering sunlight with no shade to cool them. Now they were still stuck, and it was her fault.

Nadim was silent for a moment, then he turned and put his hand on her arm. "You did the right thing," he said earnestly, looking her in the eye.

"I...are you sure?" she asked. That wasn't the response she'd been expecting. She thought...maybe she should have at least tried to spill the sands. Maybe she could have done...something, she didn't know what, but something else, to heal Arabia.

"I'm positive," Nadim replied. His eyes were brown and sincere, looking her straight in the eye, almost the way Tahir did when he was talking to her, and he really meant what he was saying. A promise, in his eyes.

She smiled slightly, looking down at her hands. Her skin looked more freckled than it had been. All those days riding in the sun had probably had her looking like a speckled egg. The starlight was having a funny effect on it, making it look almost a different shade. Maybe she was getting darker, like the Arabians...like Tahir.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" she asked, turning her head to look at Nadim and biting her lip. She was worried that she'd come too late, and it wouldn't matter at all what she'd chosen, because Tahir would just die anyway. She hoped it wasn't true.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Nadim said reassuringly, glancing upward at the stars. "We have enough water here and the shade from the tent will cool him down."

"Good," she said as looked up as well. Her X was there. It was always the first thing she saw now, whenever she looked at the stars here. She didn't even have to try to see it; it was just there. She liked it.

There were more footsteps coming towards them. They both glanced around to see Jalal coming. He set his bedroll on the other side of Xavia and sat down, grinning. "I heard you talking, and I thought I should join in the get-together."

Xavia laughed, glancing sideways at him. She'd expected to sit up alone most of the night, with only her and her anxious thoughts. She was quite happy for the change. "Well, we're glad to have your company, Jalal."

He nodded, straightening out his bedroll, so it sat flatter against the sand. "Nice to have yours, Xavia, Nadim. So what are we doing, exactly?"

"Well," Nadim drew a breath and glanced at her, "I think that we're waiting to see Tahir."

"Ah, I see. Could be a while," Jalal replied, stretching out his legs and lying back against the ground, hands resting under his head. "In the meantime, we can exchange stories of our adventures wandering through the desert. Was your trip as exciting as ours, Xavia? We found these portals, and I was the first to step through. A very dangerous and brave move on my part," he said, winking at her.

"Oh?" she asked, laughing at his self-important tone.

"Yes, that's how I got out of those chains. I'm a free man now," he said, lifting his arms to show her his unchained wrists.

"Well, I'm the one who figured out what it was," Nadim interrupted, crossing his arms with much mock importance. "I can tell you a lot more about it than he can. I was actually reading the writing on the rocks, not just stepping into them with no more sense than a...camel!"

"Hey, camels have sense! And you didn't know what it was until after I went through; you were just staring at the symbols and going into one of your nonsensical rambles. Now it's my story and I'm going to tell it!" Jalal said, sitting up and raising an eyebrow at Nadim.

Nadim through his hands into the air, with exasperation, shaking his head. "Fine, tell it your way. But then I'm telling it my way, the real way."

Xavia just laughed, watching the two friends, glad to have someone with her.

* * *

Another update! And still with reasonable timing! This warrants reviews, right? 


	28. Chapter 28

Tahir opened his eyes to the same darkness that he always saw, feeling himself waking up and becoming alert. His head felt clearer now and his senses less muddled by thirst and heat. He wasn't in the sun anymore; he was sure of it. It was cooler and he couldn't feel any direct rays of warmth touching his skin. He wasn't lying on the sand either. There was something softer beneath him, like the bedrolls they'd used when they were traveling with Shahzad. 

And there was someone else next to him, not Xavia. She breathed softer and slower, but whoever was with him now was breathing faster, as with impatience. He could tell within a moment who it was. He'd spent enough time with the man to practically memorize his breathing pattern.

"Shahzad," he said slowly, without a doubt that he was right. He was in Shahzad's tent, on one of the bedrolls. It made sense, though he didn't know why he was there, didn't remember coming. He squinted, thinking. He had vague memories, riding with Xavia in thirst and confusion. Then...drinking water at last, having it held to his lips for him and poured into his mouth for him to swallow.

"Tahir," Shahzad replied at last, "you're awake." He sounded tired and weary, but not unkind, not like the way he was before they left.

He nodded from where he lay, unsure of what to say. He wasn't sure of the circumstances that had brought him here, back to Shahzad again. "Is Xavia alright?" he asked after a moment, hoping that she hadn't been as badly dehydrated as he was or that she hadn't been hurt, if they were taken by force. He wondered if they'd gotten to the monument at all. He couldn't remember it, but if she'd found it somehow, she could have used his hand with hers, while he was unconscious. He had a feeling it didn't happen, though.

"She's fine; we gave her water and food and a bedroll to sleep on." He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words. "She came to us herself, with you, unconscious. She looked like she'd been riding for a long time. She said she was afraid that you would die, that you'd run out of water, and she asked me to help you."

"And you said yes?" Tahir asked, then bit back his tongue. He didn't want to sound ungrateful; he knew their new alliance had to be a fragile one. He was just...surprised. He hadn't thought Shahzad would ever agree to help them, after everything that had happened between them.

"Well, Xavia has a way of being convincing," Shahzad said with a dry laugh.

Tahir smiled, hearing Shahzad shift from his position in the sand. It was true, about Xavia. Whenever she asked him something, he wanted to say yes automatically, especially if she needed help or wanted to know if things would be alright. Still, he knew it couldn't have been easy trying to bargain with Shahzad.

There was another reason, too, though. He heard Shahzad swallow and clear his throat uncomfortably. "And...it reminded me of...I couldn't let you go just like—" he broke off from his stuttering at last, with a cough, leaving his sentence unfinished.

He didn't have to finish it, though. Tahir understood what he meant, who he meant. He wished he could see his friend's face, or put his arm out to clasp his shoulder or shake his hand, to go back to how they were. But he knew Shahzad would recoil from him; he wasn't ready for that. There would be no going back, but maybe someday going forward would make up for that.

"I miss her, too," he said at last, speaking quietly, just louder than a whisper. It didn't mean much; it wouldn't bring her back or change anything between them, but maybe it could be some compensation, somehow.

Shahzad seemed to start when he spoke and there was some rustling noise in the sand, his clothing pushing it around. Then he was still, just breathing. Tahir couldn't tell whether he was angry and still thought she could have been saved, or if he accepted it now. He spoke at last, but didn't acknowledge Tahir's statement, changing subjects altogether. "Well, I'm sure Xavia will want to see you. I'll go get her."

He stood up, sand sliding as he raised himself above it, brushing it off of his clothing. Then his footsteps, walking away, pacing lightly in the loose grains.

"Shahzad?" Tahir said abruptly, stopping him from leaving. He waited until he heard him pause, turning back around to face him. "Thank you," he said, "for helping us."

Shahzad seemed to wait, awkwardly, searching for some way to reply. "You're welcome. But I wouldn't thank me yet. We're still in the desert and we're still going after the Sands."

"You don't need it, Shahzad. You would be a good ruler without it," Tahir replied, and he meant it. Shahzad did have the qualities of a good leader, he just didn't see it; he'd buried it within himself, out of fear or out of grief or something else altogether.

He seemed to wait, considering Tahir's words, and then harden against them. His breathing became more of a false, controlled rhythm, in and out, forcing it into consistency. "I'm going after them," he said with a more determined tone, stressing each syllable, before turning back around and walking away.

Tahir heard the tent flap swish as he walked out. He sighed slightly. For a moment, he'd thought he might get through to him. But he didn't. Maybe he never would. But he'd helped them. That was something. Maybe in some, small way Shahzad still thought of them as friends. He knew he did.

There were voices outside and then more footsteps coming in. He could pick out three individual gaits, each walking in their own time. Then one was running, faster, faster and fell down beside him on the sand. He knew it was Xavia, from the way she ran, and the way her skirts swished against the sand. She paused, seeming to recover herself and sat, just facing him. "Tahir," Xavia said at last.

He could hear the smile in her voice, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position, turning towards her breathing. He wanted to see her face. He put his hand out, towards her, but didn't touch her yet. He waited for her.

After a moment, she put her hand out, hesitantly at first, it seemed, before sliding her hand into his larger one. He felt the warmth travel up his arm, and he could see her, but he could also...feel her. Her spirits were running high today. She'd been worried about him and seeing him again made her happy. Her happiness seemed to course through his veins, soaking him in pure joy. When he looked at her, she seemed brighter than ever.

Finally she drew her hand away slowly, bringing it back to her own side, though she still smiled at him. As her skin slid over his, though, he felt something else, something colder, darker. Something keeping her from being entirely happy. He glanced into her eyes. There were shadows there, hiding behind her bright facade. He was painfully reminded of his dream, and the darkness that had taken her life then.

She turned away from his gaze, looking towards whoever else was coming.

"Well, Tahir, it's good to see you again, alive and well I see," Nadim's voice came over the distance between them, as he walked closer, before stopping next to Xavia and kneeling beside her.

"Yes, it's quite good," Jalal said, walking over and dropping onto the ground with a thud, on the other side of Xavia, so that they were in almost in a circle in the sand, a circle of friends. Shahzad should have been there. Shahzad, his best friend. He'd be grateful for the friends he had, though.

"And it's very good to hear your voices again," he replied. "For a while there, I wasn't sure I ever would. But Xavia got us both through." He looked at her and she smiled slightly, though less giddily then before. It hadn't been easy for her, he knew. "Jalal, how did you get unchained from the rest of the Thieves?" he asked, frowning now. He was sure Shahzad wouldn't have just let him go free on a whim, and he couldn't imagine that the chains would be easy to break through.

Xavia burst into laughter, turning to look at Jalal, and Nadim let out a huffing breath, probably rolling his eyes, and Tahir was sure there must have already been some interesting stories told while he was still unconscious.

"Well, there was this portal," Jalal began, sounding like he was beginning an epic tale, sure to be filled with much honor and valor, all his own, no doubt.

"Tell the short version, Jalal," Nadim cut in with good-humored annoyance. "I am not going to listen to the entire thing you told last night, which was completely ridiculous. There were no scorpions or desert snakes or charging battalions."

Jalal laughed loudly. "Oh, alright. I thought it was a good story, though. Well, we found a portal that transferred us farther in our journey; it was how we got here so fast without horses. When I went through and the other Thieves didn't, it broke the chains." He made a sound, shifting in the sand as if to shrug off the matter.

"I see," Tahir said, though in truth, he wasn't sure that he did. A portal? He'd never heard of such a thing. Actually, Nadim might have mentioned it once or twice, but he hadn't been paying much attention. "What did this...portal look like?" he asked.

After a moment, he was sure he shouldn't have asked. Nadim jumped into the question with so much vigor, he had to wonder just how long he'd spent studying the thing. "Well, you see, it was this ring of stones, which was very interesting to me, because you know how the ancient Arabians were about rings. They were sacred; I mean that dates back to—well, forever. But the stones were carved with a very, very old language, far older than anything I've seen before, and the symbols..."

Tahir exchanged sympathetic smiles with Xavia, but listened patiently to his friend's long ramble. He owed that to him at least, for all Nadim had done for him, helping them escape and helping with the Thieves back at the pyramid in the city.

When Nadim was finally done, he paused for a moment before asking, "So how was your journey? I mean, Xavia already told us about the nomad people and the monument, but—"

"The monument?" he interrupted, excited now. They _had_ gotten there, they'd saved Arabia! But his friends had all fallen silent. Nadim wasn't talking anymore and Xavia had her eyes lowered, fixed on the sand by her toes. "Did we get there, did we do it?" he asked, slower now.

Xavia shook her head slowly, glancing up at him. "I saw the monument on the horizon. But...you were so sick by then. You were past being delirious, and I was afraid you weren't going to wake up again. I saw the camp, so...I came back."

He said nothing, feeling numb. It had been so close. Her eyes were sorry and afraid maybe; she was looking down at the ground again. She probably wanted him to tell her it was alright, to reassure her. He could envision the terrible choice before her, laid out in the sand. No doubt it had been a hard one. Still, he could have made it that far maybe, and it had been right there, in front of them! He didn't matter that much, not when the Sands of Time were so close. They could have saved Arabia without the cost of someone's life.

Everyone was quiet, just breathing, and waiting for him to reply, tension hanging in the air. She glanced up again, nervously, and he knew he couldn't be angry with her. She hadn't wanted him to die. It had been her choice, not his, and he knew he would have made the same one if it had been her dying, instead of him. He couldn't blame her for that.

He reached out his hand to touch her arm. She flinched away from his touch. That hurt, after all they'd been through, but he forced himself to ignore it and move on. "Xavia," he said softly, "it's alright. I'm not angry, just...disappointed. But not with you. I just wish we could have spilled the Sands, that way. Now if we do it, someone has to...die—but it's fine." He finally stopped talking, realizing he was not doing a good job of making her feel better. He was doing a rather horrible job, actually.

Nadim and Jalal shifted positions, moving around awkwardly in the sand.

"I'm sorry," Xavia said after a moment. He knew she meant it. She'd probably been nervous enough about the decision to begin with, even without his dismayed reaction.

"Don't be," he replied, glancing up at her again and meeting her eyes. "I would have done the same thing, if I had been in your position." He tried to sound as heartfelt as he could, as he'd obviously made her second guess herself, even more than she had before.

His words seemed to mean something to her at least and she nodded, slightly more at ease. "What will we do now—about the Sands?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, what are we going to do?" Nadim asked as well, changing positions, seemingly to sit up straighter and join in the discussion, making it less awkward between Xavia and him. "You can't very well run away again, even if we are incredibly close to the monument. Shahzad will be on the lookout for something like that, and they let the horse go free, so they wouldn't have to give it any more water."

Jalal's breathing came closer, like he was leaning in to get a better grasp of the conversation.

Tahir thought for a moment. There wasn't really much to do at the moment. "Well," he began, "I guess we'll just...go with Shahzad, like we were, and see what happens. Maybe Arabia doesn't need the Sands of Time that much. Maybe they're better off where they are."

He knew that wasn't true, though, it couldn't be. Arabia needed to be cured, his people needed to be cured. If they found the Sands, it was his duty to spill them, even if that meant his own life. It was a grand purpose and he should be willing to sacrifice himself for Arabia. There just wasn't much of a way to find the Sands right now. Unless he gave the ring he had to Shahzad. It would lead Shahzad there, they would all follow, and he could spill the Sands and never see Xavia or Shahzad's or any of their faces again. But he wasn't ready for that, not yet.

The tent flap was thrown open once again and warmth from the sun flooded in. Captain Mahmud shouted loud and clear to them from outside, "It's time to go; you'd better get ready!"

They all stood up, brushing the sand off of their clothes, to obey his order and prepare to leave.

* * *

The sun was a bright red ball, dipping under the sand dunes that had turned blue in the dusky lighting. On a different night, Xavia would have commented on how pretty it looked with all the different colors, but tonight she simply kept walking, kept placing one foot obstinately in front of the other, though she still managed to fall behind the group of Thieves. 

She sighed and finally stopped trying to keep up. She couldn't help it; she didn't feel well. She was tired and aching, all over. Not the sort of aching that comes from sore muscles or walking all day, though. It was the colder kind, the shaky, trembling kind.

She was sure she'd feel better tomorrow. She just needed some rest. She glanced to her right, towards Shahzad and the Royal Guard. They didn't show much sign of stopping anytime soon. With a sigh, she continued on, trying to go faster as she found herself walking alone, completely out of the group of Thieves.

Just then, she tripped and went flying forward, on her face towards the ground. Looking up and almost feeling like crying, she was surprised to see Tahir's brown hand extended out to her. He'd probably seen her fall. She'd noticed him watching her all day, but had mostly refused to acknowledge him. She felt awkward, after telling him about the monument and seeing his reaction. Now, though, she took his hand without hesitating and gave him a wobbly smile as he strongly pulled her to her feet. "Thank you," she said, trying to brush some of the sand off of her dress.

Tahir just nodded slightly as they started walking again, shuffling through the loose sand. "Are you alright?" he asked, glancing at her with concerned blue eyes. "I noticed you were falling behind, and you look a little flushed."

"I'm fine," she tried to reassure him, in a somewhat clipped tone, even as she struggled to match pace with his longer legs. She was grateful for his checking on her, but she didn't want him to worry about her right now, especially since she'd already made enough of a mess of things.

He looked at her with something like reproach, though, and she knew she should try to offer a better explanation. "I'm just tired, I guess. We didn't have to walk before," she said with a slight laugh. "It's difficult getting used to just going and going like this."

He nodded again in understanding, slowing slightly so she could catch up to him. "I'd like to able to sit down myself. We should be stopping soon, I'd think."

Hardly a moment after he'd finished speaking came the loud and clear shout from Captain Mahmud, "Stop! We'll make camp here."

She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling happily. She'd been waiting for those words almost all day. Abruptly, everyone stopped walking all at once. Within a second the Royal Guard were tearing into their packs, unloading Shahzad's tent and the bedrolls and blankets. The Thieves stopped and turned back towards them, switching direction and walking faster now, with new purpose: sleeping.

"See, what did I tell you?" Tahir said, glancing sideways at her.

She smiled, feeling more comfortable with him now as they turned as well, back towards the Royal Guard. They got there quickly and were handed their bedding for the night and told to sleep where they chose. Shahzad didn't seem to care about separating them anymore; it was more trouble than it was worth.

They set up next to the other Thieves, a short distance from the tent and the rest of the guard. Xavia dropped her things onto the ground and then plopped down beside them. Slowly she unrolled her bedroll, until it would lie flat upon the ground. She laid down on top of it quickly and shut her eyes.

"Goodnight, Xavia," Tahir called from a short distance to her right.

She sat up slightly to glance at him, situating his own bedroll and blanket to the way that he liked it. He worked carefully, his hands feeling along to smooth any wrinkles in it. She smiled slightly, remembering how glad she was that he was alive. And she knew he didn't blame her, not really. "Goodnight, Tahir," she said, before settling back against the bedroll.

She pulled the blanket tightly around her, up to her chin. She felt cold, so cold, like she was freezing to death and not in the hot desert. She was shivering, too, quavering ever so slightly beneath the blanket. She touched the back of one of her hands to her arm. It felt hot, more than was normal, burning almost. Well, she had a fever then, but it would go away, she just needed rest.

She closed her eyes, pressing her eyelids shut against the world and rolled onto her side. She felt her breathing slow into a gentle rhythm and her consciousness on the verge of slipping away. It felt good, the much needed rest.

It didn't come though, not completely. She drifted in and out of consciousness, tossing and turning to try and get into a comfortable position, one that would let her slip away. She was always on the verge of falling asleep, or on the verge of waking up, but never completely there. Like something was holding her there, trapped in the middle.

When she was fully awake again, it was darker and the Thieves around her were all sleeping, breathing evenly. The air was still and the moon hung like a pearl over the sand, turning it all into a still, white sea. She still didn't feel any better.

She pulled one of her hands out from under the blanket to adjust it over her. Before she brought it back under, though, she stopped, holding it out in the moonlight. It looked...odd. She sat up quickly, ignoring how cold she felt or how the motion seemed to make her ache even more. She leaned over her hand, to study it.

There were spots, all over, speckling her skin. But these weren't just freckles, they were bigger and darker and looked like they'd been torn from her skin. It reminded her sickeningly of something she'd seen before, on a poor woman in the streets when she'd first come to Arabia, and of Faiza in her dreams.

She pulled up her sleeve; the spots were up her arm, too, though not quite as much as they were on her hands. She looked at her other hand and arm; they were the same way. She sat for a moment, frozen, then pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly, wanting to curl up and cry.

The plague. She had the plague. Well, maybe not, maybe it was something else, maybe the spots would just go away, and she'd get better. She had a feeling she wouldn't, though. This was the very reason her father hadn't wanted her to come to Arabia, and now she had it. She might die here, and never see her father or her home again.

She bit her lip and thought of the Sands of Time, buried somewhere out there in the vast expanse of the desert. If they found them...Tahir would...but she didn't want him to! She should have gone to the monument, she knew she should have, and Tahir knew it, too! Then she wouldn't _have_ the plague! But Tahir would have died then too. There was no right answer this time.

That was what hurt the most. Everything she did, whatever choices she made, they were always wrong! She always should have done something else, something better, but if she _had_ done that, than it would be wrong, too. It was all so...wrong.

Maybe she never should have come to Arabia, maybe that was the right answer, the real solution. But she thought of Tahir and his passion for Arabia, for his people. She thought of Nadim and his translating. She thought of talking to Shahzad, of the love he had for Faiza. No, she wouldn't give it up for anything, not even a cure from the plague.

But maybe it wasn't the plague, maybe it would go away if she just went to sleep, got some rest. There was still that chance, that one small hope that she'd get better. She'd wait a few days, see what happened. She glanced over at Tahir, sleeping soundly down the way. He had no idea, and she didn't want to tell him. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she'd die if he didn't sacrifice himself for her. She'd wait a while. Maybe there'd be another way.

* * *

How's that for a twist? Let me know and review! 


	29. Chapter 29

The sun was bright, like a raging fire in the blue sky. It made her eyes sting, tears flowing out of them and trickling down her cheeks. The salt made her dry skin itch. She wiped them away with her sleeve and kept walking through the sand blowing around her feet. Blasts of hot wind kept rushing at her, throwing sand burning into her face. 

It was an uncomfortably hot day today, the sun unrelenting, the sky too bright to look at. The wind tore around them in circles it seemed, pushing them one way then another in searing waves. It was making the men restless. She could see it in their faces, hardened, jaw tightened, walking faster, more determinedly. They were getting tired of the desert and tired of the heat and the sand grating into their skin.

She didn't mind it as much as the Thieves and the Royal Guard around her did, grumbling and complaining about it. It gave her something else to think about, brushing it off her arms and dress every time it blew up and covered her. If she could concern herself wholly with it, she didn't have the time to pull her sleeves up and see if the black welts were still there.

They were, every time she did check, and it seemed to her that they were bigger and darker, though it could have only been her imagination. At any rate, she wasn't getting better. She still felt feverish and cold, though her chills were occasionally interrupted with flashes of hot, like she'd caught fire suddenly and was burning in the flames. Then it would subside and the cold returned, like she was caught in a snow storm at home in winter, frostbitten and freezing.

She kept walking, though. It was the one thing she could do, walk and try to convince herself that it was to some end, something that would make her better. If she just kept walking everything would be alright.

In the back of her mind, though, she knew it wasn't. There was no better end they were going to. She knew from the way Tahir had been glancing at her since morning, the worried, concerned look, trying to catch her eye. By the way she knew he loved her and would do anything for her, the way it would be his end if he knew.

She ignored him. If he didn't know, he wouldn't volunteer to spill the sands for her. She didn't want him to. What hurt the most, though, was the way she almost did. She almost wanted to tell him and hear him say he'd spill the Sands and die then, so she could live. She didn't want to die; she was sure of that. But she hated thinking that, hated thinking that after everything they'd been through, after everything he'd done for already, that she still wanted him to die just so that she wouldn't have to.

It made her feel guilty and extremely selfish, and she resolved not to speak to him, so that there wouldn't be any chance of her blurting out that she had the plague. She wouldn't meet his eyes, wouldn't even dare to glance at him. She just looked straight forward and kept walking. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

It occurred to her vaguely that she would die then, that she was dying slowly even now. But she ignored that thought along with everything else. If she just kept walking...she jumped as she felt a hand grip her shoulder, not Tahir's.

Turning, she saw that it was Shahzad coming up next to her, on her right. His eyes were dark and scanning the horizon impatiently, a concentrated look on his face. He was walking fast, too, feet pounding into the ground, restless. They all were.

It worried her; Shahzad could be dangerous when he was restless. Within a moment, though, he'd released her shoulder and turned his head to look at her, a slight smile gracing his lips. "Xavia," he said, nodding a greeting.

"Shahzad," she said slowly, watching him. She wasn't sure what he wanted with her, how he felt about her, or how she felt about him. He'd helped them, that much was true, and she had to believe there was good in him, but that didn't take back everything. He'd still betrayed them, and he was still leading them through the desert to find the Sands of Time for his own power.

"How are you?" he asked after a moment, as they kept walking.

She sighed slightly, considering telling him that she was horrible. But then he'd ask more questions, and she didn't need that. Unless...unless he knew she had the plague and was sorry for her! They could tell him the whole story and he could agree to spill the Sands and—but no, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. She couldn't ask him for that, she couldn't ask anyone for that. "I'm alright. A bit tired of walking out here. And you, Shahzad, how are you?"

His head whirled around to face her suddenly, looking almost startled by her question. She had a feeling that no one had asked him that in a very long time. In an instant, however, he'd regained his composure and was looking straight ahead again, but his eyes were strained far off into the distance, or maybe farther still, into another place, another time.

"I'm sick of this," he said at last. "Always walking, never finding anything. I want to find the Sands." His voice was low and edgy, angry, but not at her. At life, at the world, for keeping him walking, never ending.

She could relate to that. It was how she'd felt for a long time, searching for the monument. "It does get tiring," she agreed in a conversational tone, trying to keep their spirits light.

Shahzad frowned, still looking far off. "Sometimes I think we're all such fools," he said with a sardonic laugh. "We chose our own torture coming out here, probably our own end. We let ourselves get swept up in all this...hope, but we're just thrown by chance. It's like we built our lives on the sand dunes and now they're being swept away in the wind. And we just keep going, keep walking, keep _hoping,_" he spat the word, "because there's nothing else left for us, back there."

Xavia watched his hardened, weather-beaten face and felt her heart breaking for him, perhaps more now than ever. This wasn't the same Shahzad who'd dug up several feet of sand with his bare hands to try to save his love. He didn't give up on hope then, no matter how desperate that hope seemed. No, this was a different man, a broken man, torn down by the desert and by a life he hadn't asked to live.

She wanted to help him, to remind him of who he was, who he could be. "Shahzad," she spoke softly, "you _do_ have something left. You have your whole palace, all your people, your whole life ahead of you. You could go back."

He turned to look at her, brow furrowed more now, creases in his forehead, eyes darkened. "I can't go back," he said with more resolve, in a stronger voice, harder and angrier. "Not without the Sands, I can never go back! And if I don't find them, then I'll die out here, Xavia, mark my words."

She said nothing for a moment, puzzled. The lure of power was great; she knew that, but she still didn't understand his dire need for the Sands, wanting them so much that he would rather die than rule without them. "Why do you think you need them so much?" she asked. "You would do more for your people spilling them than you ever could just owning them. Are you...afraid to rule without something to help you?"

He was practically glaring at her now, but she saw him swallow, clenching his fists, and she knew she'd struck a chord: fear. He was afraid to be on his own, without his father there to help him, without anything giving him power, making him invincible.

It was understandable; he had a whole country to rule, and it was far bigger than her own country back home. She knew his father had been a great ruler, too, and kept Arabia in peace for many years. It was a lot to live up to.

"I'm no good-deed doer, Xavia, if you haven't figured that out by now. I was born to power, not a simple thief running about in the streets while dreaming about 'saving Arabia'. I have more to consider than the average commoner does."

She felt anger rising in her with that statement. Tahir—and the Thieves—were no average commoners, and she was proud to be considered one of them! Their mission was no dream; it was a reality. They'd come out here, and gotten so far; they'd risked everything, and they still were risking everything. "You wear the mark same as I do, Shahzad," she said in a biting tone. "Or have you forgotten?"

He seemed to jerk his sleeve down almost involuntarily, trying to deny any connection to the Forty Thieves, but she knew it was still there, whether or not he chose to acknowledge it. She shook her head at him, looking ahead again.

She remembered what Tahir had told her, how he'd burnt the mark onto his arm himself, holding the hot iron to his skin, refusing to even scream. He was a fool, but so eager, so enthusiastic to show his allegiance to them, how he was one of them, just like them. He'd been optimistic about life then, loving every moment of it. So much had changed.

It was almost like he'd died, was just a picture of what he used to be, only he occasionally surfaced, displaying some life, to show he wasn't completely gone. Everything had been so hard on him since Faiza. "She wore it, too," she said more quietly now, hardly more than a whisper.

She watched him tense, muscles going rigid, his walking almost jerky, unnatural. After a moment he slumped forward in defeat, hanging his head down low. "I miss her," he said in a small voice, like a child, not the arrogant man he'd been only a moment before. "Sometimes you remind me of her, a little. But then everything does." He was quiet and still before going on, "I failed her, you know. I should have saved her somehow; she shouldn't have—" he broke off, sounding like he was choking.

His fists clenched tighter until they were shaking, moving left and right in tremors. "You didn't know her!" he practically screamed at her, grief changing to anger in little more than instant, though she could see his eyes were still filled with unshed tears. "Don't act like you did! You had dreams about her and you watched her die in them, but that doesn't mean anything! You didn't know, you don't understand! You'll never understand!"

She felt herself crying, too, maybe even more than he was as she realized that she was going to die just the same as Faiza had, black welts covering her skin, unable to walk, unable to move. The Sands could save her, but the price of spilling them was so high.

More than anything, she just wanted to know that when she died, Tahir—or any of them—wouldn't blame themselves for her death. She suddenly understood how Faiza must have felt, dying all alone, when it was no one's fault, but everyone was bound to blame themselves. It wasn't fair; the plague just wasn't fair! It was just pure chance, coming and striking people on a whim, ruining the lives of all those around them.

She didn't mind so much that she would die, she just didn't want anyone she knew to feel the way Shahzad was feeling now. And she reminded him of Faiza, he'd said. She knew he still cared for her, in some way, even after everything. He'd helped them when she was desperate enough to ask, maybe _because_ she reminded him of her. He was bound to feel it again, if she died.

And Tahir. Thinking of him like Shahzad, shaking and crying and screaming, made her want to break down and sob. She'd never seen him cry and if she did, she knew she didn't want it to be over her, blaming himself for her death. She would have to tell him that it wasn't his fault; she wouldn't blame him, could never blame him—for anything.

Shahzad was turning back towards her again now, and she hastily wiped her tears away with her sleeve, swallowing the knot in her throat. She couldn't let him see her like this; she knew she wouldn't be able to explain herself right now even if she wanted to.

"What were you doing out there when you ran away with Tahir?" he asked in an accusing tone, narrowing his eyes at her. "Did you find the Sands out there and spill them? Did you find anything?"

She looked down, lowering her gaze to the sand at her feet. She wasn't going to tell him. Up until now, he hadn't asked, so it hadn't mattered. It still didn't in a way; the monument was behind them now, but she didn't want him to know. He would think they were plotting against him still, he wouldn't trust them. They didn't need to lose his trust right now.

"You must have found something or you'd just say that you didn't. So what was it? You never mentioned anything when you came back to ask for my help."

She shifted uncomfortably under his unrelenting gaze. She felt colder than before. The crying and now this questioning wasn't helping her already hurting head. But she wouldn't talk; she had nothing to say to him.

"Do you know what the price is for withholding information from the sultan, Xavia? You wouldn't keep it back if you did." His voice held a threat, but she wasn't sure if she believed him. They were friends—in a way. He wouldn't save her from the desert only to hurt her for not telling him what had happened out there, would he?

"You wouldn't touch me, Shahzad," she said, trying to muster as much confidence as she could. She was afraid her voice still came out trembling and weak. She didn't want his questions, or his threats. She just wanted to be left alone.

"Wouldn't I, now?" he replied dangerously.

She pursed her lips and glanced over, to Shahzad's other side and past him. Tahir was there, walking only a short distance away from them, his eyes on her and his face concentrating hard, listening to their conversation, tense.

Shahzad followed her wandering gaze, turning his head to see Tahir. She saw him snap, emotions quickly changing from anger to something far worse, something more dangerous than anger. He straightened and gave an exaggerated smile. "Tahir," he shouted over, "perhaps you can enlighten us, as Xavia seems to have lost her tongue. So what did you find out there, in the desert?"

Tahir stiffened under Shahzad's contemptuous tone, but seemed to remain calm, speaking in a steady voice. "There's nothing you need to know about, Shahzad. We didn't spill the Sands; they're still out there somewhere."

Xavia breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Tahir was better with being questioned than she was. She hadn't had the slightest idea of what to say to Shahzad, but Tahir had told him what he needed to hear the most, that the Sands of Time were still intact, and they weren't walking in vain, without giving away anything else.

Shahzad scowled, however, apparently angry that his opponent wasn't rising to the fight. "What did you find, then?" he asked tauntingly. "It must have been something. Another monument maybe or a ring of stones? Something else utterly useless so you came back. Because it's all useless! Everything!" He was shouting now and obviously angry, though Xavia wasn't sure if it was more at them or at his life in general.

Xavia held her breath, watching Tahir, wondering what he would say. He was silent for a moment, waiting, considering. "It does seem that way sometimes, yes, but I don't believe it, Shahzad. Xavia and I came back because we had to. Whatever was out there, we had to come back."

Shahzad snorted rudely. "Yes, to drink my water and eat my food, though you left without so much as a backward glance. Now tell me what I want to know!" His last phrase was louder than the rest, so loud that the others stopped walking, standing awkwardly around them, waiting, watching for what would happen.

Xavia looked between the two men, Shahzad, angry and intense, Tahir calm and tranquil. She bit her lip. She just wanted them to stop fighting and be friends again! But every conversation with Shahzad turned into a contest, a challenge of power, a fight. It wasn't completely his fault, but she wished he didn't always feel the need to prove himself better, to push everyone else down.

"Shahzad, it doesn't matter," Tahir was saying quietly. "We haven't changed anything; it doesn't effect you. Just let it go."

Shahzad shook his head, glaring. His jaw was tight, and he had that look, like he was about to do something dangerous. "No," he said, quieter now but edgier, with more intensity, "not this time." He stepped forward and forward again, each step reverberating as he pounded his foot down. He lunged at Tahir, tackling him to the ground before he had time to react. Then they were down and scuffling and fighting on the ground. Sand rose in a cloud around them as Shahzad's fists were flying.

Xavia watched in horror, that he would simply attack one of his friends who's life he'd saved only a matter of days ago. She remembered before, though, when he'd ordered Tahir beaten in the dungeons, and she could believe he would do it, but she didn't want to believe it. It wasn't right, wasn't...natural.

He'd gotten the upper hand using the element of surprise, and Tahir was having a difficult time getting up. She had to stop them, somehow. She glanced at the Thieves and the Royal Guard. Both groups were watching with a nervous look on their faces, but she could tell none of them wanted to interfere. Tahir and Shahzad were both leaders. Interfering in their right to fight each other didn't seem like a good idea to their followers.

But she wasn't going to let Shahzad kill Tahir, if it got that far. She watched the pile of writhing limbs and sand carefully. She knew she couldn't pull either of them away; she wasn't strong enough even without the plague, and if she did manage to have some effect, Shahzad would likely just turn on her. She needed another way and probably fast as she could see Shahzad's fists coming down hard and Tahir struggling under him. Nothing came to mind.

"Shahzad, stop!" she screamed desperately, raising her voice as loud as she could. It came out piercing and high and her throat felt like rocks were scraping down it. Still, she didn't expect anything would come of her shouting. It was just shouting, and Shahzad wasn't prone to listen to anyone when he was in a rage.

But then there was a gentle lull as the sound of their fighting quieted to only a slight shuffle, before stopping altogether. They were mostly still on the ground, only bothering to disentangle themselves. Finally they both stood up, brushing the sand off of themselves. Tahir looked confused, and Shahzad looked...different, filled with some emotion she hadn't seem in him before. Ashamed maybe, or just obedient, willing to listen for once. He stared at Tahir for a moment, glanced at her, then walked away, to the other side of the group and then onward, starting their journey again.

She watched him go, feeling more confused than ever. He listened to her. Shahzad listened to her. Shahzad, who didn't listen to anyone. He'd said earlier that she reminded him of Faiza, but...she still didn't think he would actually listen to her. She puzzled over his actions for a moment, then rushed to Tahir. "Are you alright?" she asked, observing the blue and red bruises that dotted his face.

He nodded. "I'm fine, but...why did he...?"

She shrugged. She had no better answer than anyone else. "I don't know. But we'd better get walking again; they're moving on," she said, glancing at the men starting to move past them.

Tahir nodded and they started off. After only a few minutes, she felt tired and her head was pounding in her ears. She glanced uneasily at Tahir beside her. She wasn't getting any better, and he deserved to know. Besides, she still had to tell him that she wasn't going to blame him if she died. But she'd wait until tonight, she had enough to think about for now.

* * *

Tahir spread his bedroll out upon the ground, slowly gliding his hand down the sheet, smoothing out the creases until it was flat on the sand. He sat down on top it then, lying back and closing his eyes against the world. He was tired. It had been a long day, fighting with Shahzad, listening to the man's threats against Xavia, walking.

He still didn't understand why Shahzad had stopped punching him when Xavia screamed at him, but he wasn't complaining. Shahzad actually listening to anyone had to be a good sign. He was just glad he hadn't hurt Xavia after she screamed like that. But everything had worked out alright; they'd simply kept walking and now they were stopping to rest, and he could sleep.

He rolled onto his side, feeling his consciousness beginning to slip away as he drifted between dreams and the waking world, half in either one. The weight of the world was falling away, replaced with peace and calm, tranquility. Sleep.

There was a sound beside him, a scuffling next to him, someone scooting over next to him on the sand. What could they want now, at night time, after such a tiring day? He just wanted to sleep, not bothered by anyone or anything. "Tahir," he heard Xavia whisper his name softly close to his ear, just barely breathing it.

He opened his eyes, rousing himself from his sleep and pushed himself off the ground and into a sitting position, still feeling tired. "Is everything alright?" he asked blearily, yawning as he spoke, but trying to wake himself up more. She must have had a reason for coming to interrupt him when he wasn't even awake.

"Everything is fine," she said quietly. "I just...need to talk to you."

She was looking down, with her head hanging low, close to his own. He could feel her warm breath flowing downward, heating his hands. She was probably sitting cross-legged, the same as he was, to be at the same height as him.

"Alright, what do you have to say that can't wait until morning?" he asked, laughing slightly. He couldn't imagine what would be so important if she said everything was fine. They could talk during the day all the time; there was no reason to come and talk privately to him in the middle of the night.

She didn't laugh back, though. Her breathing sounded nervous, first coming in fast rushes, then slower, calmer inhales and exhales. Something was wrong. He was beginning to feel it, though he didn't know what it could be, but something was very wrong. She was worried, afraid even to tell him what she was worried about. It couldn't be good. He wanted to see her face.

"Xavia? What is it?" he asked, trying not to sound nervous as well. He wanted to put her at ease, to tell her it was alright, whatever it was. What could really be so bad anyway? They'd survived the desert and they'd survived Shahzad, so what more was there?

"Tahir," she started, then stopped, her breath gasping inward as she sucked it in fast, in something like a sob. She was crying. But in a moment she was breathing normally again and evenly, so he had to question whether or not he'd really heard it. "Tahir," she said again, "I...I think I have the plague." She gripped his hands as she spoke, holding them tightly. Her hands felt small and fragile and cold in his own.

Within a moment, he could see her, and he was looking down at her hands. They were covered in black splotches, welts that were like burnt flesh, eating away at her skin. His eyes traveled up her arm to where her sleeve was, and the black spots went up as well, as far as he could see. He looked back down then; he'd seen enough, and he didn't want to look at her face, not yet.

The plague. After everything in the desert, after almost dying of dehydration, after passing by the monument, she had the plague. The irony of it would have made him laugh if he weren't so—so—angry! How could she have gotten the plague? Well, that was an unreasonable question; the contagions were in the air, she could have gotten it anywhere. But it was so—wrong.

The dream, he remembered the dream now, and the shadows he'd seen in her eyes. It made sense. She'd gotten the plague that night when they'd both dreamed it, but it had taken until now for it to show. The feeling of the dream came sweeping back to him. This was the thing, the one thing he couldn't save her from, the thing that took her life. But if he spilled the Sands...

"Tahir, say something!" she pleaded with him, sounding desperate and afraid.

He looked up from her hands and into her green, tear-filled eyes. Her bottom lip was trembling, and he had a sudden desire to kiss her like he had in the rain and tell her that everything would be alright anyhow, but he knew it wasn't that simple. She was searching his eyes for an answer he wasn't sure he had.

"Well," he said at last, "this...changes things." He laughed slightly, a dry, humorless laugh. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He felt...awkward and ridiculous and there was so much to say and yet...so little. There was no good way to put anything, and he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say to her.

She pursed her lips to stop the trembling, and he looked down at her hands again, running his thumbs gently over her small fingers, thinking. He couldn't let her die; it was simple in that sense. But in another sense it was so complex. He'd been willing to die for her in the desert, but this, this was...different. There was no way out of this one.

It was the very thing he'd been trying to avoid, though he had the ring and knew they could get to the Sands of Time. He just...hadn't wanted to die yet. He wanted more time with Nadim and Jalal, all the Thieves, Shahzad...her. He thought she might be beginning to care for him, as more than a friend. She didn't flinch or pull away from his fingers stroking her hand.

Being in love with her and her with him...it was what he'd wanted for so long. They could have gotten married someday maybe. He'd live wherever she wanted to, so long as he could just be with her—but it wasn't any use, thinking that way. It wasn't going to happen; that option had been ruled out the day Nadim read the monument to him.

He'd known since then he'd have to sacrifice his life for Arabia, he just...hadn't thought it would be so soon. But she wouldn't have much longer. He looked at her face again, cheeks wet with the tears that had spilled out and were dripping down her freckles. Tendrils of her golden-red hair had come loose from her ribbon and framed her face. He smiled, just barely, realizing that he'd die a million times for her. He knew what he had to do.

He straightened, raised his hand and brushed some of the tears from her face. She was startled, jumping slightly, but didn't stop him. "I'm going to spill the Sands of Time," he said quietly, like he was telling her the weather or what time of day it was, not this. "I'll let them fall on me, and I'll heal Arabia and you all at once."

She shook her head hastily, breathing in sharply again. She didn't want him to. It was difficult; he didn't want to either, but he knew he had to, it was the right thing. "Tahir, you can't. I—I don't want you to die for me, that was why I didn't tell you until now, I didn't want to ask you that."

"But you're not asking," he said sincerely, trying to let her know that it wasn't her fault, not in any way. "I'm telling you that I'm going to do it, because I'd rather die than you see you die from the plague. I would have had to do it anyways eventually, for Arabia. Now it's just sooner."

She stared at him for a moment, eyes moving back and forth across his face like she was looking for some other way, some way out of all this mess. But he knew there wasn't one, no matter how hard they looked. Not every question had a good solution. "But—but—we're fate bound! Won't I die, too?"

He laughed at her attempts to find something to dissuade him. She would never ordinarily admit to believing that they were fate bound, and he doubted she meant it now."You actually believe in being fate bound now?" he asked.

She didn't reply, but shrugged slightly, her eyes still unmoving from his face.

He sighed. "It's called severing. When I die willingly we'll be cut off from each other. You won't ever have to feel me or dream of me again." He tried to smile at her and to laugh, but he couldn't and neither could she. It was too fake; it hurt too much. He spoke sincerely now, "Xavia, please understand, I want to do this. You're not condemning me; I'm choosing it."

She looked into his eyes, meeting them with understanding now, but still filled with pain. She nodded, agreeing at last, though reluctantly. "Thank you," she said and smiled with him as brightly as she could manage, but they both knew it was only pleasantry. They were trying to put a good face on the situation when there wasn't much of a good face to put on.

He nodded and reached into his pocket, taking the ring out. He held Xavia's hand and found her ring finger, slipping the ring slowly onto it. It was a perfect fit and the ring shown with bright gold and blue, the floating specks dancing like fireflies in the night air. "Give it to Shahzad; he listens to you. We'll all go with him to the Sands and I'll find a way to get up to it with the key."

She nodded again, still looking at the ring on her finger, glistening there like a tiny star, sparkling as it jeweled her hand. She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze with intensity and opened her mouth to speak—then stopped. She smiled again, a sad, broken hearted smile. "Goodnight, Tahir," she said softly.

He smiled back as well as he could. He wanted to tell her...he wanted to tell her so many things, but there was nowhere to start and nowhere to end. No matter what he said, it would never mean what he wanted it to. She was watching him, waiting for him to speak. "Goodnight, Xavia," he said at last.

He watched as she crept back to her own bedroll, burying herself under her blankets, sighing slightly. Soon he would die.

* * *

Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter. I was a bit busier than I had anticipated and Shahzad and Xavia were being ornery. But here it is now! Enjoy it! 


	30. Chapter 30

She woke long before the first hints of dawn were even beginning to creep over the dark horizon. She was still in discomfort; her head hurt perhaps even more than before, and she was still cold and trembling, but she hardly noticed. She had something else now, something she hadn't had before: a strength of will. She didn't have any idea how, but she wasn't going to let Tahir die.

If she could just get to the monument—but no, the monument was too far now, and she didn't even know what direction it was in. If she got the other ring from Shahzad, she could—she could do something, maybe! What, though, she wasn't sure.

Maybe since she was one of the Destined, it would...act differently somehow, since the Destined had guarded the rings before. Maybe it would sense her intent, and the Sands would simply spill on their own without being unlocked or killing anyone the plague would be cured! No, that was ridiculous. But still...she tried to remember if Nadim had said that there was any difference between the Destined having the rings and normal people having them. She didn't think he'd mentioned any.

That left her nowhere, really, the same as she had begun with. There wasn't really any reason for there to be any difference between her and anyone else. There was nothing to be done then. She stared dejectedly at the sand, then rolled over onto her other side and shut her eyes, trying to go back to sleep. But if she got the other ring—she rolled onto her back again. Then nothing.

But if there did happen to be some difference—wasn't it worth trying for? Not really, because Shahzad was wearing the ring, and it wasn't very likely that he would be oblivious to her slipping it off his finger. Unless he was a heavy sleeper. Maybe the ring was too big and would slip off easily. Once she had it, she would...well...she would make it up as she went.

She sighed and stared intensely at the stars, glaring as if they were the cause of all her troubles. She soon let up her stare and settled on merely watching them sparkle. Like the rings sparkled. Groaning, she sat up quickly. The plan was, in a word, idiocy. It relied far too much on random chances and coincidences, nothing real, nothing solid.

But it wouldn't leave her alone, and she was going to carry it out with to the utmost of her ability. She had to try something. For Tahir. She turned her head to look at him. In the dim torchlight, she could make out his sleeping form and his face, eyes closed, relaxed.

Now was the best time, when it was dark. More guards were sleeping than actually patrolling, so she had the best chance she was going to get. There were still a lot of them, though, especially around Shahzad's tent. They were practically surrounding it and watching the area like hawks. Getting past them would be tricky.

She realized then that they were watching her at the moment and frowning with disapproval. She was supposed to be sleeping, not sitting up. Evidently waking during the night was against the rules. Well, she would have to bend the rules a bit. She stretched her arms out and arched her back, then settled back against her bedroll, but not before tossing and turning a bit.

She was simply having a difficult time getting to sleep. It was the truth really. She could hear the guards moving around then, less tense. They dismissed her easily enough and seemed to assume she was going back to sleep. That was good. But they'd be sure to look again if she moved. It would have been so much easier if she still slept in Shahzad's tent!

If she slept in Shahzad's tent...a plan was beginning to formulate in her mind. She rolled around again, first to her stomach, then to her back, again to her side, the other one. After a few moments of endless turning, she sat up and pushed herself to her feet with an dissatisfied huff, brushing sand off of her clothes.

The Royal Guard was watching her curiously. Most had brows slightly arched and some had their hands resting on the hilts of their sabers. She was a returned runaway, after all. That amused her. Previously, they wouldn't have given her a second glance. What could she do, anyhow, just a mere girl? Now she had some respect.

Respect was not what she wanted at the moment, however. She would show them a different side to her, a more delicate, feminine side. She strolled over to Shahzad's tent slowly, taking her time and bothering to look as tired as possible.

She surveyed the guards as well as she could without looking suspicious. Luckily, she didn't see Captain Mahmud around. That was good; he was smart, likely to see past her scheme. Still, they were all stony-faced and entirely devoid of any emotion. None showed any sign of being affected by her or about to speak to her. That was how soldiers always seemed to be. Still, she'd get to them.

Most of them looked young with heads covered in thick, dark hair and skin mostly free of wrinkles. That was good; the younger the better. They seemed much more likely to be sympathetic to her than the older, seasoned warrior type who were occasionally set up as guards at night.

She picked out the two men in front of her and locked eyes with first one, then the other, before glancing over her shoulder and sighing pathetically. "Do you think you could get me a drink of water?" she asked, when she turned back to face them again. She looked up into their eyes, then dropped her gaze lower again, staring at their boots.

All the men around appeared to shift uncomfortably, unsure of what to think of her. She kept her eyes open wide as she looked at the ground and waited a few moments for her eyes to gloss over. She looked up again with what she hoped was an innocent, hopeful expression. "I'm ever so tired but I just can't get to sleep! I'm so thirsty and I...I just don't think the desert air agrees with me."

They stared, almost gaped at her. She hadn't made any attempts to speak to the guards before and when she'd had to talk to them, she wasn't polite at all. She supposed it would seem strange to them now, and she hoped they would still listen.

"Well—we don't normally just give out water. Not until morning," the young man in front of her spoke at last, awkwardly and somewhat broken up.

Good, they didn't just agree to give her a drink. She wanted them to refuse; otherwise she'd have to just drink it and go back to sleep. She didn't care about the water; she just needed to work her way up to what she really wanted.

"Oh," she breathed the word out softly, hanging her head down low and trying to make her cheeks flush a soft pink. She glanced up without moving her head into the eyes of the guard in front of her, then quickly lowered them again. "I just don't know how I'll get to sleep. I'm getting so sick of sleeping out here in the desert; I miss having walls around me and shielding from the night air, like...at home." She let her voice rise with passion when she said the word 'home' and straightened up a bit taller.

Another glance at the guards saw that they all looked highly confused and uncomfortable, but not cruel. As long as they weren't cruel, she was getting somewhere. She just had to win over their sympathy. She needed them to be able to...relate to her, somehow. "Do you...miss your homes?" she asked after a moment, hesitantly.

She wasn't sure if she could ask that or not, and what reaction it would stir in them. It was out of her place; she knew that much, but if she sounded innocent, maybe they could brush that away and just answer her.

They seemed to all be gawking at her, or else exchanging baffled glances among themselves. They must have wondered what in the world had happened to her. Since when did she, their enemy, start caring about whether or not they missed their homes? Tonight she wasn't their enemy, though; she couldn't be, or she'd never achieve her goal.

"Did you have...family, back there?" At the raised eyebrow of a man to her right, she spoke again quickly, "Oh, I don't mean to pry. I just thought, since I couldn't sleep, I might as well...oh, never mind." She spoke quickly and nervously, blushing in earnest now as she realized she wasn't getting anywhere. They were still just staring.

"I left my wife at home with my little girl. Well, she hasn't been born yet, but I know she'll be a girl because she's going to grow up just like her mother—" the man in front of her spoke softly with a grin, but quickly shut his mouth as he was elbowed and practically shoved around by his comrades. He straightened to his full stature then and regained his solemn countenance, coughing slightly. "If there's nothing else, you should go back to sleep," he ordered.

Xavia stayed where she was, knowing she was making progress now, however small. She smiled to herself at the words of the young man. It really was sweet, how lovestruck he sounded. "It must be difficult leaving you're families like that. You must be eager to head back home to them; they must miss you so much. I know I miss my father. The desert is awfully...big and not much like home," she said, looking around and taking in the area with her sweeping gaze.

She shivered then as cold seemed to spread over her body and a wave of dizziness hit her. She felt like laying down now, not manipulating the guards. But she had to help Tahir...she glanced back at the guards tiredly.

Surprisingly, her shiver seemed to have some effect on them, and they were all watching her with wide eyes, looking almost concerned. Now, when she had their sympathy she had to act. "At least before, I had the tent, to seem more like my room at home, at the palace...with my father," she said, gesturing towards the tent at their backs with a doleful expression in her eyes.

They shifted again, not catching on. Some glanced back at the tent, than at her again. Some even nodded at her. They were obviously ast least somewhat emphatic to her, but not understanding what she wanted.

She had to get her point across clearer, without sounding blunt. They were bound to suspect something if she just came out and said it. She needed them to think it was their idea. "I miss my father so much," she spoke with a longing, laughing slightly as her voice faded away. "I think that if I just could sleep with walls around me again, I'd feel...well, almost like I was at home." She raised her gaze to the tent, taking in its height and the sides of it, the flaps hanging down like walls.

The man in front of her, the one who'd spoken of his wife before, scratched his head for a moment, running his hand through his thick hair and shifting his jaw. "You...could sleep in the tent again," he said slowly, hesitantly.

The man next to him shoved him again. "She cannot!" he shouted, incredulous that his friend would even think of such a thing. "She ran away, remember? What if she...does something else?"

The first man started to shrug when she cut in again with as much feeling as she could muster, "Oh, I wouldn't do any harm, I promise! And I don't have any weapons so I can't hurt anyone; you can search me. But sleeping in a tent would be so nice...almost like home," she spoke softly and bit her lip, not hard, but just enough to get a worried, sad appearance on her face, trying to stop herself from shaking. This had to work; if it didn't, she didn't think she'd feel well enough to do any more convincing.

The men looked at her, then turned to each other, talking amongst themselves. They whispered quietly, some voices louder and some softer, forming a half circle in front of her, cutting her off. Occasionally they'd glance at her, and she turned sideways, glancing up at the stars and shifting from her toes to her heels and back. She didn't bother trying to hear what they were saying, just let them talk it out themselves. Hopefully they'd come to the conclusion that she posed no threat.

Finally they turned to face her again and the one who'd spoken to her the most stepped forward. "We decided you can sleep in the tent for tonight. But we'll be right outside, so don't try anything funny or we'll be in there in an instant."

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together and smiling brightly. Truthfully, she felt almost rejuvenated with their decision. Her plan had worked! Her idiotic, foolhardy plan actually worked! She was extremely lucky that the guards on patrol tonight were young, inexperienced probably. She was almost certain that any older guards would have refused her flat out.

"You can...get your bedroll," the young man was saying now, awkwardly pointing his hand at where she'd left her blanket and bedroll.

She glanced back and nodded, still smiling, and went to get it. She crossed the short distance fairly easily and in no time at all was returning, dragging her bed along with her. The guards parted before her, even stopping to pull back the flap to let her inside the tent. She thanked them in her sweetest voice and began to make her bed on the ground. They left her to herself.

Once they'd returned outside she took in her surroundings more carefully. There were two torches in the tent, casting flickering shadows on the thin material of the tent sides. The firelight illuminated Shahzad's form, sleeping soundly on his side of the tent. She could hear his breathing, loud and even.

She pursed her lips and tried to ignore him, going about her business. She wouldn't get the ring yet; she needed to wait so the guards would relax and not listen so closely. Shortly, her bed was made up and she looked about the small area again. The curtain was still there, to separate the tent into two sections: one for her and one for Shahzad.

She walked over to it and drew it closed, walking from the one end of the tent to the other. Afterwards she went to her bedroll again, relaxing against it, trying to keep her body still. She drew each breath out, trying to make them long and even while she thought.

She didn't know how long she needed to wait. She had to try to make as little sound as possible. If the guards changed during the night sometime, that would be the ideal time, when they weren't paying attention. But it was late now, she didn't know if they would change again before morning. And if they were older guards and found out what happened they might be angry; they could pull her out right while she was trying to take the ring. That would ruin everything.

She wouldn't wait long; she couldn't risk it. She'd lie down for a few minutes, though. Just a bit longer, a bit later. She shivered and tugged her blanket up under her chin. The dizziness was coming back and the fatigue; she was tired, so tired. She shut her eyes, letting her world fade to black. She'd get up soon; she just wanted to close her eyes for a moment, just for a moment, it would be alright.

* * *

The first thing she was aware of again was her head, pounding in her skull and the wave of nausea that swept over her when she opened her eyes. The world seemed to hang in a balance for a moment, unsure of which way it belonged: upside down, sideways?

Finally it came into focus and she was aware that her skin felt funny. It hurt, but in an odd way, almost more like itching, but...not. She looked at her hands and saw that the black spots were bigger and the rest of it was pale, almost grey and flaky. Her nose wrinkled in disgust before she realized that she could see her hands too well. It wasn't the dim, orange firelight now; it was pale morning light.

She sat up quickly and looked around. She was still in the tent, and she didn't hear much movement from outside. The rest of the camp must have still been asleep. But there was light, filtering through the thin tent cloth. It was dawn. They'd be up soon.

She had to get the ring now; she shouldn't have fallen asleep, shouldn't have ever closed her eyes! She tried to calm down, slowing her breathing, relaxing. After a moment, she stood up and walked quietly across the sand, opening the curtain into Shahzad's section just wide enough for her to step through.

She stood there for a moment, eyes searching in the dim light. Shahzad was still sleeping deeply, eyes shut, breathing even. His right arm was sprawled out past his bedroll and onto the sand beyond. She could see the ring glittering there on his middle finger. The gold flecks in the center of it caught the light, sending a bright beam of golden light piercing into the darker shadows.

She reached her finger to touch her own ring just like it, resting on her right ring finger. It felt cool and hard, but comfortable in the fact that it was her ring that she'd found and worn herself. Nevertheless, she slipped it off into her pocket. If she got caught, she didn't want to have it in sight.

That finished, she inched forward again, closer to Shahzad. She stopped close to his arm and knelt gingerly beside it. Hesitantly, she put her own arm out and took hold of his hand, picking it up off of the sand and moving it closer towards herself.

Shahzad took a sharp breath in, much louder than before and less even. She paused, stricken, feeling her heart skip a beat, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. After a moment, though, his breathing returned to normal and she let out a sigh of relief.

She moved quickly now; she wouldn't wait around any longer. It was too dangerous. He could wake any minute. Still gripping his hand, she moved her other and quickly pulled the ring off of his finger, letting his arm fall back to the ground.

She slid the ring into her pocket along with the other, still watching Shahzad nervously. The ring had fit him well; he was bound to have felt her removing it.

He did. He rolled over onto his stomach closer to her, almost on top of her, making some kind of groaning sound, muttering. "The ring...I need...the ring." He was groggy, at least half asleep, but still.

Starting, she jumped up to her feet and made a dash for the other side of the tent, as fast as her legs could carry her. Once there, she shut the curtain fast behind her, breathing hard. For the moment, she was safe; there were no other noises coming from Shahzad.

She took a deep breath in. She had both rings, just like she'd wanted, but what now? There was nothing for her to do. She couldn't get away, not with all the guards out there, and Shahzad was bound to notice his ring had disappeared off his finger. She'd be the prime suspect, having slept in his tent after practically begging to.

She was trapped; she'd trapped herself with her own idiotic, imbicilic plan. There was no way out now. She thought desperately for a few minutes, mind racing, blood pulsing, before simply lying back down on her bedroll, pulling her blanket up, and closing her eyes. If she was asleep, maybe that would make her less suspect, at least a little. It was the only chance she had.

For several minutes, she lay perfectly still, with a growing sense of dread. Outside, the Royal Guard was waking up, probably the Thieves as well. They were getting ready for the day, and soon Shahzad would wake, and then—she wasn't going to think about that. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

She knew the moment he woke up. First there was the sound of his sheets rustling around, then his shout, loud and angry, at precisely the same moment that her headache spiked and merely opening her eyes sent the world reeling. She shut them then, squeezing tightly until she could feel hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

She could hear his footsteps coming fast towards her, stomping, pounding the way the horses had, in the stampede when Tahir and she had left. Pounding, closer, closer. The curtain was opened, and he stopped in front of her. She could feel his eyes hovering above her, looking down.

She didn't move, but it didn't matter. In a moment his arm was firmly around her waist, pulling her away from her bedroll and blankets, into a standing position. He made her face him and held her shoulders with a grip like steel, eyes blazing. "Where is it?" he asked, screaming at her.

She shook under his intense stare. He didn't look away, not ever. He didn't let go of her, though it felt like his fingers would leave bruises on her shoulders. He didn't realize what he was doing and stop, like he should have. Before, he always stopped. He'd hit her, the one time; that was true, but that had been fast. He'd had time now, he could have let her go, but he didn't. It scared her, more than anything ever had. "Where's what?" she finally asked him nervously, almost stuttering.

"The ring!" he roared at her. His face was close to hers now; she could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. "You took it off my finger while I was sleeping; now I want it back and the other one with it!"

She looked down, shaking her head slightly. She didn't know what to do; she could—she could—she tried to think of options, but she was scared and he wouldn't stop staring at her. Her head was pounding and she was shaking more now, almost violently.

His hands tightened, pinching now, rigid against her shoulder blades. She flinched, letting out a slight cry, as she felt more tears dripping down her cheeks.

She wasn't answering fast enough for him. Too quick for her to even realize what was happening, he'd spun her around so her back was to his chest and had an arm around her waist, pinning her arms down at her sides. She heard the sound of metal ringing before she had a chance to react, and in a moment she felt a cold blade pressed to her throat—his dagger, against her neck.

He was pulling her outside now. The blinding sunlight increased the pain she was already in, throbbing in her temples. Her breath was hard and fast, and her vision was almost blinking, the light flickering in and out.

Everyone was surprised to see them. The Royal Guard reacted first, all turning from their duties to stop and stare, then glance unassuredly from one to another. Captain Mahmud stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his sword towards them.

"Shahzad, what are you doing?" he asked in a low voice, confused.

"She stole my ring from me," Shahzad replied softly, his mouth next to her ear, his breath wisping her hair around her neck. "She's a traitor. Once the one person I thought I could trust, now stealing from me."

Xavia swallowed. The cold metal felt funny when she did, rising then lowering again. Maybe she'd been wrong, afterall. There could have been other ways. She could have told Shahzad what was happening, maybe he would have listened. She shouldn't have stolen the ring; she should have known it would only set him off. She did know, really, she'd just—just been so...trapped. She'd wanted to do something, and it was the one thing she'd thought of. But it was still wrong.

"I'm sick of this," Shahzad said now, still quietly, just whispering into her ear. He whipped her around suddenly, pulling her in the other direction, towards the other side of the camp. She didn't bother trying to struggle; he was the one with the dagger at her throat. She didn't want it any deeper than it was pushed into her skin now.

She saw the Thieves stand up quickly from where'd they'd been sitting, eating their breakfast. They looked confused, but tense, ready to fight if need be. Tahir was several feet in front of them all with his eyes fixed on her. He was trying to catch her gaze; she looked down. She didn't want to see him now. She didn't want him to know that this was all for him, because she couldn't stand the thought of him dying for her.

More tears were slipping out now, falling freely. She bit her lip, trying to contain herself. She felt like breaking down and sobbing because she'd failed, because she was miserable and sick and dying, because everything had gone wrong! She'd only wanted to help and—and she'd ruined everythin.

"Let her go, Shahzad," Tahir's voice rippled over the space between them. He was nowhere near shouting and didn't even sound angry, but his voice was loud and strong.

She glanced up at him again, remembering why she—why he was such a good leader. He could stay calm through it all, even the worst circumstances. People listened when he spoke,

However, Shahzad wasn't fazed. He laughed slightly, bitterly, as he looked at the men around him. "You can't touch me," he said. "You can't do anything to me, any of you, because I have the knife and you don't!" He paused, then went on, "Now I'm sick of all this! I'm sick of the lies, the deceit! I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now!"

Tahir frowned, looking puzzled. He didn't know what was going on, because it was her plan, only hers. His eyes still hadn't left her face. "I'm not sure what the problem is here, Shahzad. Please, explain."

"She stole my ring!" Shahzad shouted. His voice was blaring into her ear. It hurt, and sent the world flashing again. "I want to know why she wants it, and I want it back, along with the one I know she has like it! She found it in the sandstorm; I was there!"

Tahir sighed, realization dawning on his face. He knew what she was doing, even if it was a useless feat. He started to speak, explaining slowly and clearly. "The rings, if you have both of them, will lead you to the Sands of Time. Xavia," he said her name, then waited for her to look at him, to have her full attention.

She turned her eyes to him slowly, knowing full well what he would say to her. But it wasn't fair, he shouldn't have to die! None of it was his fault, he hadn't asked for this to happen! She didn't want to find the Sands of Time if it meant he had to die! But then, there were all those people just like her, dying from the plague. She pursed her lips. It wasn't fair, none of it.

"Xavia, please, just give him the rings," Tahir said quietly, only for her. His face looked pained and tense; his eyes were tired, but pleading with her, to just let it go. He wanted to die for her, if he had to. It hurt more than anything, more than how her head was pulsing, or how cold she felt, or how her vision kept winking at her. But it calmed her in a way, that they were broken together, that no matter how much she failed and how wrong her plan went, he was still there, still willing to die for her.

Slowly, with a crushed spirit, she reached her hand into her pocket. Shahzad loosened his grip around her waist so she could get to it. She pulled both rings out with her right hand, turning slightly. The dagger left her neck, dropped out of Shahzad's hand and onto the sand. She opened her hand and held the rings out to Shahzad, shining as they rested on the palm of her hand.

He took them, but not without glancing into her eyes a few times and opening his mouth, then shutting it, like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure what or how. He looked at the dagger glinting from the sunlight then at her again, with big, dark eyes.

She didn't say anything, but took a few steps backward, nearly tumbling over as her foot faltered in the loose sand. Tahir was there to stop her, his hand resting lightly on her back, just enough to steady her. She turned to look at him and smiled slightly. Tahir was always there when she needed him. In a way, she still believed he always would be, though she knew better, knew his plan was to die.

Shahzad was looking at the rings with curiosity, examining them closely. Finally he slipped them both onto two different fingers and looked around the camp, all watching him inquisitively. Suddenly he looked back at the rings on his fingers with something like a start, and gave the orders, "We move out immediately."

* * *

Sorry for the rather long wait. I went on vacation for a week which threw me off, but hopefully this was a good chapter to make up for it! I had fun writing it! Remember to review!


	31. Chapter 31

I'm not going to bore you with long and eccentric reasons why I couldn't update for...almost 4 months? Eep! I feel very bad about abandoning you all and the story for so long, but I think we should not dwell on such things and instead focus on how I'm updating now! And with two chapters! It was meant to be one but then it drew out a lot and I thought 7,000+ words for one chapter was a bit much. If you're really fast, the second one might not be up yet, but it will be as soon as I read through it one more time and upload it.

So, enjoy the new chapters and review both of them! I know I don't deserve it, but be a darling and do it anyway; I'm curious to see who's actually still reading this story, since I'm such a horrid updater...

* * *

East. He had to go east, into the rising sun, into the stifling desert air, towards the only thing he needed to be everything he wanted to be. The grand sultan of Arabia, the greatest there ever was...as good as his father was, if nothing else. If he could just be that, that would be enough. Nothing else would matter then. No one would undermine him; he could stand on his own as a grand figure, commanding respect from all those around him. They would call him a good man. They would love him.

But if he didn't find the Sands, if he returned to the palace empty-handed...he could hear Khalid's voice in his head, taunting him. _You're not the man your father was. You'll never be the man your father was. You betrayed your friends...traitor. Murderer._

No! He clenched his fists to his sides, muscles tightening. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. He focused on the feeling pulling him towards the Sands, gently tugging him toward it. He knew he'd find it now. None of his doubts, none of his worries mattered anymore. He would rule, and he would rule well.

The feeling was an odd one, but a good one. The knowing, the pulling, emanating outward from the two rings, resting on two fingers, one on each of his hands. It wasn't necessarily a physical feeling, though. He wasn't being dragged by his fingers; he just knew he had to go on, and where to go. It was a tingling spreading up his fingers and over his arms, to his heart and to his mind.

So he went east, where all his hopes and dreams waited for him. He was glad it was still morning, and he could travel towards the sun, even as it traveled towards him. It climbed slowly higher into the sky, pulling a line of bright gold and pink through the sapphire sky, and turning the dark sand slowly ablaze into a ravaging orange fire.

Before long, it would hit its midday high, and the effect would end, but he would still know where to go. He had that now, the knowing that depended on nothing else. It made him feel stable. Tahir and Xavia, walking somewhere behind him, all of the Royal Guard, and the Thieves, they didn't know. They walked around him and behind him, but with a lack of purpose. They followed in curiosity and wonder, but nothing else.

Only _he_ knew. It made him smile as he paced along; he knew something they didn't. He had a power no one else had. He could find the Sands of Time, while they could only watch.

And, suddenly, he didn't know. It was as if the magic of the rings, sensing his smug assurance, had simply shut off, to knock him back down to his place. He stopped walking, footprints suddenly stopped short. The gentle rhythm he'd fallen into, one foot purposefully in front of the other, gone.

He glanced around him, somewhat anxiously. Dunes stood to his left and to his right, blown by the wind into gently rolling hills of gold. He wondered, vaguely, if in Xavia's country, the hills looked like that, only green and solid. It wasn't important, though, not now. In front of him, the sand was spread wide in a still, flat plain.

Forward wasn't the right way, but neither were either of the turns. Or maybe they all were; he just didn't know anymore. Maybe...maybe it was the rings' problem; maybe they could only work for so many years. They were old, for goodness' sake, ancient! Maybe their time was up.

He held up his hands closer to his face, and examined them both quickly. They looked the same as they always had: the bright blue sapphire, spread all around the open spot where flecks of gold floated and shimmered in the sunlight, like a tiny gold island in the sea of blue. Nothing had changed. So why was the feeling gone?

He scratched his hair, becoming aware of the people now, spread behind him. They were in a hushed anticipation, near to silence, but he could make out a frenzied whispering rising among them. They were starting to wonder. If he knew where he was going, why did he stop? Had he only been leading them astray for all these hours, with no real idea of where to go? Was he losing his mind, going mad in the scorching desert heat?

Honestly, he was beginning to wonder himself. Maybe it _was_ the heat. Maybe he'd only imagined the knowing. Maybe the rings were useless, and it was all only wishful thinking. He'd never rule well, just as he'd never be his father. That future, if it had ever been a possibility, was long gone now. He'd done far too many things his father would never have stooped to.

"Shahzad, what's wrong?"

He turned, whirling in quick reaction to Xavia's voice behind him. Her eyes watched him intently, concern shining clearly through. And he'd held a knife to her neck earlier this morning, something he didn't know if he could ever forgive himself for. Yet she seemed to have no qualms about asking _him_ what was wrong. He didn't understand.

She reminded him of Faiza, though, so much sometimes. The concern in her eyes, in her voice. The way she knew what was wrong, what was on his mind, without even asking. She could see his fears so easily, but his strengths too, maybe, what he could be if he would just choose it.

But he wasn't choosing it, and she wasn't Faiza. Her eyes were green, not black, and she didn't know everything about him. Tahir stood just behind her, his hand lingering on her arm. It only served as a reminder of what he'd lost, what Tahir took from him. His friends, his life.

"Nothing's wrong!" he shouted, louder than he meant it, spitting each and every syllable to enunciate to perfection. Nothing _was_ wrong. The rings would tell him where to go. He just had to...wait for it.

He bit back his words, though, when he saw Xavia wince at them. He noticed then, for the first time, that she didn't look well. Her face was pale and drawn; if he looked closely, it almost appeared that she was shaking, shivering in the hot sunlight.

"I don't know where to go," he said at last, quieter now, defeated. The rings weren't telling him anything, and he had no assurance that they would. In fact, he felt almost certain they wouldn't. The feeling, the knowing, seemed very far away now, as if it had never even happened.

There was a murmur from the rest of them, whether shock or I-told-you-so's, he didn't know. Perhaps just general disapproval, a general lack of faith in him.

"What do you mean, you don't know where you to go? You knew where to go before!" That was one of the Thieves, shouting from where they stood together, all in chains.

He shrugged lightly and glanced at the rest of them; most regarded him with skepticism. "Well...I don't know _now_," was the only answer he could give. He'd lost it, the only power he had. He couldn't get it back now; he wasn't good enough to even follow the magic of a few stupid rings.

He noticed Nadim then, standing with Jalal apart from the rest, looking honestly puzzled. Wrinkles graced his forehead as he stared downward at the sand, deep in thought. He wondered if the man knew anything about the rings, had any ideas of what was happening. Ideas and wondering didn't matter much, though; he needed solid answers.

He needed to find the Sands; that was the important thing. He needed to rule the way a sultan should rule, not like this. Not with awkward stares and inward shaking, wondering if he was cut out for this position—knowing deep down he wasn't.

He looked at the Royal Guard now, and the awkward feeling rose from within his stomach, tightening his chest. They all watched him, waiting for orders, or for answers. They expected him to lead them like a sultan should, not like the lost child he was beginning to feel like. Captain Mahmud, in particular, watched him with more than a hint of disapproval.

He looked back at Tahir and Xavia. Tahir looked as though he was concentrating hard, on a sound maybe, or a specific thought, his head tilted downward. Xavia watched him still. She looked tired, but her head was held high, eyes meeting his clearly. He looked away quickly, unnerved. Something about her, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something reminded him of a memory—one that hurt.

"Well—this just doesn't make sense," Nadim interjected, breaking the silence.

Shahzad turned his attention to the man, as did most everyone else, but he barely seemed to notice. He only took a few steps forward, still frowning, raising his wrist slightly with one finger in the air. After a few more steps, he lowered his hand again, bringing it to his chin with fingers curled into a ball.

"What...did it feel like to begin with?" he asked at last, raising his gaze to meet Shahzad's. "I mean—how did you know where to go?"

"I just...knew," Shahzad replied, pausing to think. That was really all there was to it. He knew, and then suddenly, he didn't. But there had to be a better way to describe it, a better way to get his point across. "I could just feel it, drawing me east with...the knowing of what I'd find, when I got there. I could...feel the Sands of Time, I suppose."

Nadim nodded and the frown deepened, as he seemed to concentrate more and more on whatever it was he was thinking. "Yes, yes...the rings would call to the Sands, so of course you would feel them on the other end...for the rings _are_ the Sands would mean the bits in the middle would be tiny particles of the real thing...keep the peace, evermore...evermore goes back to rings, the endless circle, rings are sacred, so..." he looked up suddenly, "were you thinking anything rather...un-sacred?"

Shahzad took a breath in, considering his answer. His thoughts had been...arrogant, maybe, but wasn't that his right? He had, briefly, held a power no one else had. Shouldn't he enjoy his power, when it led him to his dreams? He had a feeling, though, his father would say no. Power was a responsibility, not a right. To him, it was beginning to feel like a prison.

Nadim, though, didn't bother waiting for an answer. He only watched Shahzad for a brief moment, before looking back down, shaking his head. "No, no, no...the Rings of Sand would lead you to the Sands of Time...leading would also mean following, for your part...another word for leading is guiding...guide!"

He looked up then and glanced around at their surroundings, first to the right, then left. Shahzad followed his gaze, feeling puzzled by both the man's ramblings and his actions. There was nothing there, to either side; he'd already looked.

Nadim, however, seemed unfazed by the lack of landmarks, and started to walk, pacing first one way, then the other. "Guiding is...somewhat less obvious than leading; you have to make some choices on your own, whether you make them right or wrong would determine...well, whether or not you get to where you want to go, so..." he looked up again, directly at Shahzad, meeting his eyes clearly. "I think you should walk backwards. See if you...feel anything. If you started to go the wrong way, maybe it just shuts off until you get back on the path. Or, if that doesn't work, you could try walking in either direction. Maybe you have to choose your own way now; it's guided you this far, now you have to do something yourself. Admittedly, that would be more difficult, considering the number of different ways you could go, but..."

"I know the way," the voice wasn't loud by any means, but it held authority, coming from the type of man who seemed to gain respect simply by _being._ It was the way his father spoke. It was the way _Tahir_ spoke.

Nadim looked away from the area of sand he'd been staring at, turning quickly towards Tahir. "_You_ know?" he asked, frowning in puzzlement. "How do _you_ know?"

Shahzad stared as well, carefully watching for his old friend's reaction, wondering. Tahir knew. Why would Tahir know? _He_ was the one with the rings; _he_ was the one who was supposed to be led there. Or did Tahir have to steal that, too, the one power he had, as he'd stolen everything?

"I can...see it," Tahir said. His voice wavered slightly with confusion, likely wondering _why_ he could see it, but there was a resolve in his voice as well. His jaw was set tightly and his brow was just a hair below relaxed, in stern concentration.

After only a moment of regarding him, Shahzad was nearly positive that he _did_ know, and whether or not he approved of it, following Tahir was the only way to the Sands. Tahir held the same strength of resolve he'd felt a mere minutes ago; he could recognize it easily enough for what it was.

"The north star," Xavia was saying now, turning slightly to look at Tahir. It appeared that she could see it, too, though she seemed less sure of herself than he.

Tahir nodded slightly to her, almost imperceptibly. "Yes, we need to go north to find the Sands of Time."

"You both know?" Nadim asked now, looking from one to the other and back again, frowning only slightly. Suddenly his eyebrows rose high as a realization seemed to dawn on him. "Ah, that does make sense! It was 'be led' not 'led.' You won't necessarily know the way yourself, but someone will lead you there. The same sort of power that flows through the Sands and the rings would flow through the Destined, so what better way to channel it than through them?" He nodded to himself. "Fascinating."

"Destined. You're both Destined?" He didn't know why it surprised him. He already knew Tahir was, and Xavia's dreams pointed clearly enough to it. Still, it seemed like one more thing they shared together, one more thing he was shut out of.

"Yes, Shahzad," Xavia said quietly, answering his nearly rhetorical question.

He glanced at her, gazing at him earnestly. A sharp wind blasted at them suddenly, and he saw her shake as it blew at her, swaying slightly. Again, he was surprised by how how unwell she looked, how fragile, like a bit of dust thrown by the wind. He didn't like the thought. It reminded him too much of Faiza before she died. Weak and limp, not the strong, boisterous girl he knew. He looked away from Xavia quickly, focusing on Tahir beside her. "How far is it?" he asked, back to the matter at hand. Finding the Sands, that was what mattered.

Tahir shook his head. "I can't say. The Sands aren't straight north, but it's the next step in the journey, the only part I can see."

He nodded, gnawing on his lip slightly. He hoped it wasn't too far. They didn't have enough supplies to sustain their journey much longer. But there wasn't much of a choice. "Well, lead the way," he said, gesturing with his hand to the right, to the north.

Captain Mahmud stepped forward suddenly, cutting between Shahzad and Tahir, turning to Shahzad with wide eyes. "Why are you trusting them?" he asked, incredulous. "After everything they've done: running off together, attacking you, stealing your property! Your Highness, I must object. You cannot follow them and expect to find anything worthwhile. They could still be plotting against you."

Shahzad stiffened and glanced from Tahir to Mahmud and back again. Tahir stood tall and straight, not leaping to defense, but only standing with dignity. Tahir always did that. Sometimes it made him angry, that he seemed so confident, one hand on Xavia and ready to step forward at any moment. Maybe Mahmud was right. Tahir didn't trust him to begin with, so why should he trust Tahir, after everything he'd done? If it wasn't for Tahir, Faiza might still be alive now. If they'd actually looked for the Sands of Time, instead of waiting until after she died, maybe none of this would have happened! Then he stole Xavia, and he had—had...authority. Respect. Everything Shahzad wanted but didn't have.

He turned and looked out at the desert. The sun was high above them now, and all the sand shone like shards of polished gold, metal reflecting the sun with a blinding light. He liked it that way. His father did, too. His father used to say it was the only treasure he ever needed, like a mountain of gold just sitting on his doorstep.

He frowned suddenly, thinking of the treasure he was going after now. He wasn't like his father; the desert wasn't good enough for him. He needed the Sands, too. It made him feel angry and worthless, and he just wanted to shout at something.

"Shahzad, what will it be?"

He turned quickly to look at Tahir again, who had spoken. He narrowed his eyes, but Tahir didn't look angry or plotting or snide. He looked like...Tahir, the man he'd grown up with. But things had changed! Everything had changed, and he couldn't just trust the man who had destroyed his life, whose life...he'd destroyed. Both were true statements.

"Shahzad, you can trust me," Tahir said. "I want to find the Sands as much as you do, if for different reasons."

Well, that was true. Tahir wanted to find the Sands of Time as much as anyone he knew, _more_ than anyone he knew besides himself. Curing Arabia had always been his dream, as long as Shahzad could remember since knowing the man. He wanted to see his people well again.

He took a breath and glanced at the sand once more. He wasn't getting anywhere by just standing there, and he couldn't really imagine what else Tahir or any of the Thieves could do to him, after everything they'd already done. So, he had to take a chance this time. Trust a friend. It seemed like a long time since he'd trusted anyone. Maybe it was time for a change.

He nodded at last, a bit hesitantly, then stood up taller and straighter, and spoke with as much authority as he could muster. "We move north!" he shouted to the general crowd. Then he looked to Tahir and Xavia, who smiled at him slightly. Tahir smiled as well, though not towards anything in particular. Still, it was a look on his face Shahzad hadn't seen in a while, and it gave a feeling as well, one of camaraderie. "Lead the way," he echoed his previous words with another gesture to the right, ignoring Captain Mahmud or anyone else that would try to protest. This was his choice, and he'd made up his mind.

They started walking. Tahir and Xavia went in front this time, with him trailing slightly behind. The rest of them were all a bit farther back, carrying the supplies.

The walking was tiresome, but he felt that he was almost used to it by now. It was all they did now: walk, in the blinding desert light and the burning desert heat. The rhythm of taking step after step was predictable, if not comfortable, and soon everything seemed to glide together. Step after step wore into foot after foot and yard after yard and, eventually, mile after mile. It soon seemed to be just an endless blur of golden dunes, blowing and rearranging themselves around him.

When he finally grew tired of watching nothing but sand dunes slowly pass him by, he turned his attention to Tahir and Xavia in front of him. They hadn't spoken much, but he noticed now that Xavia seemed to be having some amount of difficulty, having to take long, quick strides to match Tahir's normal, perhaps even a bit slow, pace. She stumbled then, nearly tripping into the sand.

Tahir put his arm around her waist for a moment, to help steady her on her feet. He seemed a little slow at removing his arm from around her. "Are you alright?" Shahzad heard him ask, as Xavia tried to press forward beside him.

Xavia glanced up at the man, seemed to nod, then shake her head, then sigh at last. "I don't feel very well," she said at last, speaking quietly, wearily. "But I'll be fine."

She was sick, then. That much was beginning to be obvious, but he wondered with what, and he hoped she would feel better soon. Trekking through the desert was not exactly an ideal activity for someone feeling a bit under the weather.

Tahir nodded. "Well, I'm sure we'll get to the Sands before too long."

"And then what?" she demanded, her tone almost biting.

If he wasn't imagining it, it seemed that he could see Tahir visibly wince at the sound of her voice. An uncomfortable silence seemed to hang between them. He wondered why. Obviously, they were in a difficult position, with him wanting to keep the Sands and them wanting to spill it, but she sounded almost angry at Tahir, and he couldn't see why.

"Xavia..." Tahir said at last, "even if we're not together...I'll be with you, always."

Xavia said nothing in reply, but it seemed to him that she moved slightly closer to Tahir, their fingers brushing against each other as they walked. He looked away from them quickly, turning to stare determinedly at the desert sand. He didn't bother analyzing what they were talking about; it was only the feeling between them that he cared about, that bothered him.

It wasn't that he was jealous. He was sure of that now; he didn't want to be in Tahir's position. It was only...that feeling, he didn't have it. It wouldn't have mattered, only that...he _did_ have it, before, and he'd lost it. Faiza and he...he'd felt it all the time with her. Nothing else mattered when he was with her; it was just them, together and...he'd swore it would last forever. But it didn't. She was gone.

He thought of what Tahir said, though, and wondered if Faiza was still with him, though death had parted them. He thought of her face, her beautiful, lovely face. Smiling lips and black hair blowing in her face. He could remember her so, so well. But she was gone. That was still the main feeling he got whenever he thought of her; she was gone, and he was all alone. And that was what hurt, more than anything else.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, realizing that his heart was beating fast in his chest and his hands were shaking, fingers curled into tight fists. He had to stop this; he couldn't fall apart every time he thought of her. He needed to...to move on. But he didn't want to move on. He didn't want to lose her, didn't want to let go. It hurt too much.

So he kept walking, staring intently down at the sand, trying to clear his mind until he thought of nothing. Just the sand, far below him, crunching and shifting beneath his feet.

He almost didn't notice when Tahir and Xavia stopped walking, and he nearly walked straight into them. He caught himself just before he reached them and stopped to see what they were looking at. Peering between them, he could see that a few feet in front of them was a steep decline. It dropped down several yards into a large basin-shaped depression in the sand. It formed a wide circle in front of them, enormous really. The other side was nowhere in sight.

"I don't think we should go down there," Xavia spoke suddenly, her voice wavering as she took a step back, away from edge, pulling Tahir along with her.

Shahzad frowned slightly, hearing the fear in her voice and seeing it in the way she clutched Tahir's arm. He took a step around Tahir, to stand on the other side of him and get a better look. Then he saw it. Ivory colored and half hidden by the sand that drifted over them, were the bones of people who had traveled here like them, but a long, long time ago, strewn across the basin.


	32. Chapter 32

"Skeletons!" shouted one of the guards, having spotted the things.

There was an uproar then, a rush into something like hysteria. Shouting, whispering, moving all around. Everyone was afraid, or angry; they didn't want to be here. _He_ didn't want to be here. He felt a growing sense of dread as he looked at the bones, the skeletons of those who had died here before. He didn't want to die. That was the surest thought in his mind, the one prominent feeling, blocking out all the rest, all the questions and all the shouting all around him. He didn't want to die, alone out here in the desert, with no one to remember him, no one to miss him back home. He didn't want to be...forgotten, just a pile of bones covered in desert sand.

"Nadim!" he heard Xavia call over the crowd.

The man rushed forward to her side, gazing at her inquisitively, looking ready to answer any question she might pose.

She pointed down, and he noticed then that the ground beneath their feet was more like solid rock than grainy sand, and there were symbols carved into the edge of the basin, just before the drop. They were etched deep into the rock, bold and clear.

"What does it say?" Xavia asked Nadim.

The man bent down quickly, brushing some of the blowing sand away with his hands. He studied it for a few minutes, and everyone seemed to grow quiet then, waiting for his analysis. He was a good translator; they all knew that, even if they tired of hearing his ramblings. He would get to the bottom of this.

"It says," he began after a few moments, squinting downward at it, "death...comes...to all." He examined it for just a minute more, then looked up, nodding slightly. "Yes, that's all it says."

It wasn't much of a description, but it held an unmistakable warning. Death had come to those in the basin, and it would no doubt come to them, in some form or shape, if they entered. There was a foreboding silence then, as if it rested over the place.

"So, this is the Basin of Death, then?" Jalal remarked lightly from behind, breaking the stillness as he looked out at the huge depression and the bones there, lying still, dead. There weren't any weapons, no swords or arrows lodged between any ribs, or even just lying nearby. Whoever it had been, they were just...dead.

"Why did you bring us here? Would you have us all killed, man?!"

Shahzad looked up to try to formulate an answer, before realizing the guard, a particularly edgy-looking young man, with bloodshot eyes and a fierce scowl, was addressing Tahir, not him. Tahir couldn't see the basin, of course, but he had to have heard all the shouting, and knew well enough what lay there.

"It's where we were supposed to go," Tahir spoke, loud and clear, still clinging to the explanation of the knowing.

"And where are we supposed to go _now_?" the young man retorted, sounding angrier by the second.

"I...I don't know. I can't see anymore of the journey," Tahir replied, sounding much the same as Shahzad had sounded, when the feeling suddenly stopped. Seeing Tahir the same way made him feel...pleased. It wasn't as he'd expected it to be, though. He wasn't glorying in the man's lack of power. He just felt that someone else understood now, knew what it was like for him.

He looked around then, scanning the edges of the basin, looking for something...anything. There, on the right side! A tall structure standing in a long line, a wall, he thought, extending from the edge of the basin and stretching far out to the right, to the east. There didn't seem to be any buildings, nothing for it to guard. It was just a wall, in the middle of nowhere. It seemed to almost shimmer in his vision, though, and then...he felt the pulling again. Like magic trickling upward from the rings, over his arms slowly. They had to get to the wall and follow it.

"I know where to go!" he shouted, pointing at the wall. "We have to get there, and travel alongside it. Come on!" He started walking immediately, rushing past Tahir and Xavia who stood beside him, and through the Thieves and guards who stood beyond them.

He didn't get far before he realized that he didn't hear any footsteps, or any sliding in the sand behind him. He didn't hear any whispering, or any voices. He stopped and turned around, realizing that no one was following him. They stood at the edge of the basin still, watching him tiredly.

"Come on!" he shouted again. "We have to get there!"

They watched him. Why weren't they coming? He knew where to go again; they were going to find the Sands of Time! But they all stood, just staring at him. Didn't they believe him?

"How much longer is this going to last?" Captain Mahmud asked at last, as if speaking for all of them. "We followed you, and then we followed him," he gestured to Tahir, "and now you again. From one corner of the desert to another. Are the Sands of Time really even out there, Shahzad?"

The man was supposed to call him 'your highness.' It didn't seem to matter much now, though. He didn't care. But he did care about going, about finding the Sands of Time. He pursed his lips for a moment, then stretched himself to his full height and tried to think of something inspiring to say.

"The Sands _are _out there, Captain," he began, "and I can feel them. Closer than they ever were before. We're almost there. It might have seemed like an aimless trek through the desert for a long time, but...it's not now. Giving up now would be giving up when it's within reach of our hand. We can't do that."

They watched him, silent. He had a feeling it wasn't very inspiring.

Nadim scurried forward suddenly, towards him. "Well, I for one would like to see that wall. It could very well have some interesting carvings on it, lost pieces of history. Not going would be an insult to the ancient times."

Tahir whispered something to Xavia; she looked up at him and nodded. They walked forward, with the rest of the Thieves following in tow. "We're coming with you, Shahzad. We want to find the Sands as much as you do," Tahir stated as they reached him.

He nodded. He knew they would try to spill the Sands if they got the chance, but he was still glad that someone else actually believed the Sands were even out there. Mahmud seemed to think he was crazy, and it was beginning to make him wonder.

The captain sighed now and stepped forward as well, and the rest of his men followed him. "Well, we can't very well just stay here. We'll come with you always, your highness, but I do hope you're right about this."

"I am, Captain," Shahzad reassured him. "We'll find the Sands."

The older man nodded slightly, and they all turned again and started to trek onward, setting their path towards the wall.

Thankfully, the walk to the wall was fairly short, likely made shorter by the fact that they had a destination this time, one they could easily see just by raising their eyes up to look at it. Shahzad kept his own eyes on it almost always, staring eagerly ahead, and whenever he glanced backward, the rest of them were the same way. They stared up and in front of them, scanning the wall and the distance between them and it. He smiled slightly; it was a good thing to know how close they were getting and how much farther was left for them to go. It was heartening for all of them to think that they were actually getting somewhere, towards where they wanted to be, rather than just into more endless sand and sunlight.

The wall was made of reddish-brown stone. There were no visible bricks it was built from, just the smooth, solid stone. It came right up to the edge of the basin, then jutted outward to the northeast in a long, straight line. They started following from there, walking right beside the high structure, towering several feet above them. Shahzad was in front, leading, with the rest coming up behind.

"There doesn't seem to be many symbols," he heard Nadim say, loud enough for most everyone to hear. "But if you look closely there are some markings, though very light."

He glanced backward to see the man standing close to the wall, squinting and running his hands over the hard surface, attempting to brush off sand and dirt from years of weathering. It looked a difficult process, and he wasn't going to stop for it, though he would allow Nadim to study it briefly in passing.

"The travelers' burden...no, loss...the travelers' loss gained...backward...to earth. Does this make sense to anyone else? I think I'm using the wrong language..." the man muttered.

"Come along, Nadim!" Jalal called out, yelling backward. "We don't want to leave you behind!"

Shahzad kept his attention pressing onward, but he could hear Nadim shuffle forward to catch up to the rest, and offer some explanation of the writing on the wall. "I can't make anything out of it on such short notice; it seems to be a strange dialect, but what interests me most is the way it's carved. It's so light, like they didn't want anyone to read it, like they weren't...supposed to write it. From what I've read from other scripts, it seems the main rebels of the day were Haytham and Arwa, so it makes me wonder if they could have written it as an explanation of their stealing the Sands of Time and hiding it from all of the rulers of the day, who wanted it for their own power and were really more like unjust usurpers anyway."

"Mm," Jalal murmured. "Or perhaps some children carved it with sticks."

Shahzad couldn't keep back a smirk. Nadim's tendency to analyze things did seem to easily stretch into over-analysis. He did wonder, though, about Haytham and Arwa. From what he'd heard of them before, it seemed they were trying to hide the Sands, to protect them from people like him, people who wanted them for power.

But he...he was different! He _needed_ the Sands! He wasn't cut out to a be a ruler, not without them. He couldn't do it; he wasn't good enough. He needed something to make people respect him; his own personality didn't seem to do much to warrant respect.

Faiza respected him. She'd told him so on a few occasions, and he could see it in the way she looked at him—the way she _used_ to look at him. And his father...his father loved him. But he didn't know him; he didn't know all the things he'd done. And neither did Faiza, anymore. He wondered what she would think of him now. Would she still love him if she knew that he'd betrayed the Thieves—of whom she was a part of—or ordered innocent men killed and beaten, for no better reason than being angry?

His hands shook. Of course she would still love him. Faiza would always love him, always! Nothing could take that away, nothing, ever!

He heard someone take a sharp breath behind him, quickly gasping for air. The exhale was slower in coming and there was a sound like sand falling quickly over itself, like someone stumbling through it.

"Xavia?" he heard Tahir ask, then louder, "Xavia!"

He turned in time to see her eyes open, then close, blinking rapidly a few times, before slowing down. Slower, slower, she swayed on her feet, reached a trembling hand to Tahir for stability, but her hand never reached him. Her eyes closed all the way finally, and she dropped suddenly and fell limp.

Tahir reached an arm beneath her just before she fell to the ground, and he lowered her gently the rest of the way, kneeling beside her with an arm around her shoulders, supporting her head. "Xavia," he murmured, "Xavia, you have to get up."

The other Thieves pressed close around him, looking down at Xavia with concern, and the Royal Guard gathered outside of them, not crowding, but looking on with curiosity. Tahir didn't bother to look at any of them. His attention was solely on Xavia in his arms.

Her breathing was ragged; she sounded more like she was gasping in shock than just taking breaths of air. She was beginning to sound more regular, though, now that she was lying down. She was undoubtedly unconscious, though. She made no response to Tahir speaking to her, and her eyes, though wandering back and forth, were closed and would not open.

"What's wrong with her?" Shahzad asked quietly, taking a step towards her. The guards standing there moved to either side, parting in front of him to let him through..

Tahir turned toward his voice. "She's got the plague, you dolt!" he shouted, angry now. He held her arm then and pushed her sleeve up to her elbow, almost forcefully.

He froze when he saw the welts, all the black spots like torn wounds, trailing all the way up her arm. Her skin, pale before but still with a healthy glow, was now a faded, washed-out, grey color. It was too much like Faiza, too much like his father. He had to turn away, look at the sand, and ask why. Why did it have to take her, too? Why did it have take everyone? The plague followed him everywhere, just waiting for the next person he cared about, to take them unawares.

She'd come to Arabia so...innocent. She was just a girl and she could...she could see good in everyone, even—even him, after everything. She'd been his best friend after Faiza died, until...until Tahir stole her. Until they both turned against him. She was no angel. She plotted against him with Tahir; she chose Tahir over him.

He looked at Tahir now, worried and hovering over her. He used the arm not holding her up to stroke her hand, gently running his fingers over her skin, while he spoke to her quietly, his voice so low that no one else could hear.. It reminded him of himself, with Faiza. He loved her so much, and the plague took her. Tahir loved Xavia; that much was obvious. Wasn't it only...fair that the plague should take her, too?

Tahir slipped one arm under Xavia's knees then and, keeping his other around her shoulders, stood up abruptly. Ignoring the Thieves who had to dodge out of the way in order to avoid being hit with her legs, he turned toward Shahzad again and asked in a hard, controlled tone, "Are you still going to keep the Sands for yourself and let her die, Shahzad? Or will you spill them and save her and all of Arabia?"

Shahzad looked at Tahir in front of him. The man looked tense and a bit angry, menacing maybe, but he was the one with the Royal Guard on his side, far outnumbering the Thieves. Tahir couldn't make him doing anything, couldn't make him choose to spill the Sands. And he wouldn't; he was sure now. But Xavia...no. He blocked that thought from his mind, focusing on what this would do to Tahir, not to her. Spilling the Sands was what Tahir wanted, and he wasn't going to give it to him.

"The Sands are still mine," he said, answering in the same tight, low tone that Tahir had used to ask the question. Tahir had no more power than he did, even if he did seem to exert more authority, and this was only making that more clear. What was taken away from Shahzad would be taken away from Tahir.

Tahir said nothing for a moment, keeping his face set in a stony, unmoving position. Finally, he nodded slightly. "Lead the way," he said, voice still low and quiet, but edgy.

Shahzad did just that. He turned on his heel and started to walk, stomping through the sand and realizing for the first time how quiet it had gotten. Nobody spoke; no one whispered even a word. The only sounds were their footsteps in the sand, and the softly blowing wind.

It was only a matter of yards before the knowing stopped. They didn't need to follow the wall anymore, but he didn't have any idea of where they _did_ need to go. He stopped in his tracks and examined the area briefly with his eyes before turning back around to face everyone else.

"I don't know where to go."

No one said anything. There was a slight humming sound that rose up from them, almost like a swarm of bees, but he knew it was only their whispering, speaking and speculating with one another in low tones. A few of the men glanced at Tahir, still carrying Xavia, but he shook his head as if to say he didn't know the way either.

Xavia moved then, slightly. She moaned a bit, far back in her throat, and shifted position in Tahir's arms. Her eyes started moving then, shifting quickly beneath her eyelids, back and forth, back and forth. "The horses," she murmured then, beneath her breath. "We have to...follow the horses."

Shahzad stared at her, frowning slightly, mystified. She was unconscious. He doubted she could even hear them, and yet... "Did she just—?"

Tahir shrugged.

Then, as if in answer to his question, there was a pounding. Like a thousand beating drums, they could hear it throbbing, and feel the pulsing underneath their feet as it shook the ground.

The Royal Guard shifted, pulling in closer together, eyes glancing all around. He looked from them to his other side, opposite the wall. The sand rose into something of a hill there, peeking several yards to their right. He saw the ground quaking at the top, like tiny vibrations running through it.

The first thing he saw was a thick cloud of sand, like a small storm rolling towards them. Then there was a flash of black, followed by a whole lot more black, an entire stampede of horses crashing down the hill towards them. A lot of them were the ones they'd brought from the palace that had ran off when Tahir and Xavia left; some of them were ones he'd never seen before. They all looked wild now, though, galloping in full speed down the hill.

He stepped backward when they got closer, crowding in to his men, as they'd done only moments ago. He wound up right next to Tahir and glanced briefly at Xavia, still unconscious in his arms. He could have sworn she had a smile on her face.

He wasn't sure what the horses were going to do. They tore down the hill, racing straight at the wall, showing no signs of stopping or switching direction. Finally they were so close he could smell them, a sweaty, dirty, but wild smell—like freedom. Their smooth, black coats gleamed, and the pounding was almost deafening. Then, at the wall, they stopped, just barely. The two foremost horses rose up on their hind legs, letting out a loud, bellowing whinny, like a battle cry, as they fell down against the wall, pushing on it with their front hooves.

The wall broke. There was a cracking sound, then it gave way beneath the horses. As soon as their hooves hit the ground, they were running again, galloping through the wall and leaping over the huge chunk of stone they'd dislodged, past it into the desert on the other side.

"Well—we should follow," Shahzad spoke when all the horses were through, almost stammering. It had been...a grand sight, to say the least. He'd never seen anything like it.

Tahir nodded silently, and the rest of the men said nothing, still staring in a daze at the sand cloud left in the horses' wake. He took that as the most agreeable answer he was going to get at the moment, and he started forward, together with Tahir at his side.

They hurried forward and through the opening in the wall. The desert on the other side seemed much the same but perhaps a bit brighter, if that was possible, more vibrantly gold. There were more hints of red in it as well, but only in places. There seemed to be patches of more pure colors, changing in a pattern akin to a game of chess: a more red patch and then a more gold patch, dotting the ground.

The horses galloped together in a long line. Shahzad followed them, glancing down at their hoof prints pressed deeply into the sand, trying to stay on the exact path they'd tread just moments ago. Tahir fell slightly behind him, unable to see and unfamiliar with the area, and still carrying Xavia.

Shahzad was practically running now, when he saw the horses change direction abruptly. They turned, all in one pulsing, black mass, first to the right, swinging out a ways, then turning in a roundabout pattern to the left, and back towards the wall. He stopped for a moment, watching them run their large circle.

When they'd gone all the way around, they ran in a straight line again and trailed off all together to the right. He watched them for a moment longer, then started after them again, going only to the right and abandoning the odd circle they'd run in; he could see no point to that path.

He stopped when he heard the creaking noise, feeling startled. There was a deep, groaning sound, coming from deep within the ground. He could feel the sand shaking beneath his feet, the whole earth caving in maybe—or caving out. He took a step backwards, towards where Tahir stood still, holding Xavia and listening, when the sand started to rise suddenly, starting in the middle of the circle the horses had run.

There was a slight point at first, poking out of the sand with calm, gentle slopes on either side. Then it rose steeper and higher, until it was jutting high into the air, beginning to take a long, cylindrical shape. Finally the sand started to slip off at last, to reveal the edges and detail of what was causing the movement—a giant hourglass, still rising like a mountain out of the sand.

Two plates of solid sapphire blue were mounted on either end of the glass, with three columns of twisted blue and gold holding the plates together. The most remarkable thing, though, was the sand inside. Inside the two glass bulbs, shining almost like mirrors, the sand seemed to drift and float aimlessly about, pulsing slightly and flashing with every turn of light, sparkling in the sunlight and lit with a golden sheen. It was nearly too bright to even look at—glowing akin to the sun itself.

"The Sands of Time," he breathed, staring in awe.

* * *

Next chapter is the climax! Though, I wonder if it will develop into two like this one did...anyway, reviews are appreciated and will be replied to!


	33. Chapter 33

This was it. He could barely believe it—wasn't even positive he did believe it yet. Of course, the sand had shaken under his feet like the world was ready to collapse, and of course, it would make sense that they found the Sands of Time at the end of their journey as they were supposed to, and yet there was something so completely unthinkable about it. The Sands of Time were right in front of them!

But how could he be sure? He couldn't see them; all he knew was that the earth had quaked under his feet while he heard that deafening noise like the ground splitting open. And, moreover, how could Shahzad, or any of them, ever be sure? No one had ever seen the Sands of Time before, no one alive today anyway, and all of the records on them were extremely vague, hardly any description to them at all.

Somehow, though, he did know. He could...feel it. It was the same sort of feeling he always had with his dreams and visions, with the rings, with...Xavia. That quiet feeling he got whenever he was around her, whenever he looked at her. He knew that she was...that they were...that—that—he didn't even know what it was that he knew, only that she and he were...connected. That she was the light in his ordinarily dark world, that their fates were intertwined somehow. That she held his heart in her hands.

Not that he was in love with the Sands of Time by any means, but he _was_ connected to it. He could sense it's closeness to him, and it was like fresh air off the sea, breathing life into him, existing with him. He wanted to reach out to it, to be nearer to it. He could feel it like it was all around him, he could...see it.

He nearly dropped Xavia with the shock of that sight, and had to swiftly harden his grip around her, lest she slip right through his arms. Then he stood still, transfixed. At first, it was like some ethereal light surrounding him, wrapped around his arms, circling his head, golden clouds of dust or grains of sand drifting all around him. He felt weightless, like he was drifting with them, floating free. It was as if he was inside the Sands, as a part of them.

Then, slowly, it started to move away from him, converging a few feet away and moving backward and backward, up the hill. He could see the glass sides, reflecting the golden light within and multiplying it tenfold. The sides, thick and bowl-shaped to begin with, twisted into a thin, spindly connection in the middle, and the twisted gold and blue columns supported the two plates at either end. It was so beautiful. Being blind and never seeing hardly any sights of beauty in the world seemed worth it now, if he just saw this one thing—and Xavia. He wouldn't ever give up seeing Xavia; she would always be first in his mind.

He stared silently for a few more minutes, before the reality finally set in for him, the realization weighing heavily on his mind. This was it. After all these weeks in the desert, after all the years talking about it, wishing for it, hoping for it, here it was at last. They'd made it. They'd made it through everything, but he didn't feel the way he'd expected to. Yes, it was beautiful, but there was no extreme satisfaction, no glorying in the hero he'd be, no shouts of jubilation. He was happy, yes, but there was also a sickening dread rising from the pits of his stomach. This was the end of the journey. This was the end of his life.

He hesitated for a few moments, refusing to give in to that thought. He still had so much to live for. He was a young man; he'd done a lot of things, but that didn't change the fact that he was still young! He wanted more time with his friends: Nadim, Jalal, Shahzad...he wanted to make things up with Shahzad. There had to be a way to somehow make the man see that things didn't have to be this way. They could be friends again, not the way they were, but...maybe better somehow, after all they'd come through. It would take time, but it could happen.

He wanted to get married, have children. He swallowed. Of course, if Xavia died, there wouldn't be anyone for him to marry. He loved her, couldn't imagine himself with anyone else. But he couldn't just...if he died now, he'd never see her awake again. He'd never see her smile or laugh at him again, he'd...but if he didn't die for her, she never would _be_ awake again, never _have_ the chance to smile or laugh again.

He turned his head downward to look at her, but he couldn't see her. After she fell unconscious, she'd faded in his mind, and it was killing him, that thought: what if he never _did_ see her again? He wanted to live to see her again.

She turned then, twisting slightly in his arms, taking a deep, but somehow strained breath. "Tahir," she spoke his name in nothing more than a murmur, a slim shadow of consciousness, but it was all he needed.

He could see her, and he was shocked. Her face was so pale and ashen, like death. Her skin was tight around her cheekbones, and she seemed so fragile, so small. She looked more like a ghost than the vibrant princess he knew. She'd been so bright and so golden and smiling. Now she was...fading away, just like she had in his mind's eye before. He couldn't let that happen. He had to give her the chance to live; he had to save her somehow.

"An hourglass! Of course, it's the Sands of time, isn't it? Why didn't we think of that before? It's brilliant!"

Tahir turned slightly, towards the sound of Nadim's voice, somewhere behind him. There were a few other voices, other whispers from back there but mostly only silence. Everyone stood in shock and in awe, but that would soon change.

Shahzad wanted to bring the Sands of Time back to the city to rule with them. Tahir glanced back at them, still bright and brilliant in the darkness of his vision. The Sands were, in a word, huge. The hourglass had to be at least fifteen or twenty feet tall and half as wide. Moving it was going to be...difficult, to say the least. Not impossible, though. They could get ropes in various places around the columns, and it would slip easily through the loose sand. They _did_ have a lot of men there to help pull it. And in a moment they'd be surrounding it, formulating. It might not ever be out in the open like this again.

The decision was made quickly. This was his one chance. Yes, it was a fool's chance, but it was the only real one he saw right now. The key was in his pocket still. It was an easy reach. He could get to the Sands quickly at a fast run. He had the element of surprise in his hands. This could all be over in a few minutes: quick, painless, easy. There was no use prolonging the inevitable.

Glancing down at Xavia's white face again, he felt a sharp pang of agony and a fierce longing to stay with her. He didn't want to go; he wanted to stay here with her, to hold her in his arms and never let go until she opened her beautiful green eyes again, until she spoke his name with clarity and consciousness. He wanted to relive every conversation he'd ever have with her and have a million more, and—

But her face, it was so white, so ill. She seemed to shake in his arms, trembling. He could see the black welts all over her arms and a few grayish ones rising from her neck, and he knew that she was dying. _Dying._ Then the Sands were there again, all around them, and when he saw her take a breath, it was like she was breathing in the golden sand and the golden light, and she was _glowing_. The bright warmth was in her cheeks again, the welts were gone, and she was well, on the verge of opening her eyes—

But it was gone, leaving him with only an unshakable resolve. He would spill the Sands of Time, and he would heal her. He began to kneel down then, gently touching first her legs to the ground, then her back, until he was only supporting her shoulders and her head. He thought about kissing her just once on the cheek, but it would only draw unneeded attention that could hinder his plan. He had to do this for her.

He mused for a moment on the fact that the only time he'd ever kissed her was that first time he'd met her and quite against her will, though she hadn't fought him. In fact, it almost seemed like she'd kissed him back for a moment, but he was sure it was only surprise acting. Still, he smiled, then sobered. If he hadn't kissed her then, none of this would have happened. She would have still been alive and well, and he wouldn't have to die now. But he would never have known her, and knowing her was worth everything. No, he didn't regret it. He'd never regret it.

Finally, when he felt no more breaths of air directed at him from the men who had turned to look, he laid Xavia's head down gently on the sand and shifted his weight onto one foot, pushing forward on his toes. He was up quickly and forcing both feet forward, taking long, quick leaps through the sand. He could see the bright hourglass ahead of him, one hundred, maybe two hundred yards.

He ran like there was nothing else in the world that mattered, nothing left for him back there. And truthfully, there wasn't. If he didn't spill the Sands, Arabia would slowly decay, more and more people sick and dying until they were only a dead civilization, lost amidst the sand dunes. There would be none of them left—not any of the Thieves, not the Royal Guard, not even Shahzad. Nothing would survive.

It was the right choice—the only choice. The world could go on without him, living fully again, and Xavia—he smiled a bit sadly, thinking of her bright, infectious laughter—she would go on without him. She would live; that was what mattered.

He kept running, kept leaping across the ground, flying out one leg and springing forward on it the moment he felt solid ground beneath his foot. He hardly even dared to breathe, afraid the action might slow him down. The Sands, towering in blinding light before him, were getting closer. Fifty more yards, forty—there were footsteps behind him.

The Royal Guard had caught up, were only a few ten or twenty yards behind him and gaining. He heard shouting but couldn't make out the words, didn't try to. It was a noisy, clamoring blur behind him, but he had to ignore it.

He had to keep going. He spurred his step—a little bit faster, a little bit farther; if his lungs exploded, so be it, but he was going to spill the Sands first.

Nearing them now, he glanced up as he ran, searching for the lock he'd have to find to spill them. He could feel the key bouncing against his leg with every step. The light from the hourglass was almost unbearable. Every single, solitary speck of sand was floating around in a haze of brilliant gold and reflecting every ounce of light it received—reflecting right into his eyes, it seemed.

For a few seconds he could only blink as hot water dripped out of his eyes. He'd never felt so blinded before—which was strange, because he was normally blind, but this was something different, something he'd never felt before, like his eyes were burning. There was no time to think about it, though; he blinked the tears away.

The shouting was louder now, and he could almost _feel_ the footsteps, pounding and resonating into the ground behind him. He looked up frantically, scanning the hourglass, trying to keep his gaze on the outside glass, on the sapphire work on the plates and beams, on anything but the golden sheen within.

He felt sand scuffing around his heels, kicked up by the men behind him, much, much too close.

He saw it, just as he felt his arms grabbed and pinned behind his back, his knees kicked and buckled under. He fell forward in the sand, kneeling but still looking up at the hourglass. On the front glass was a scattering of large sapphire stones, each about the size of the palm of his hand, rising up in a winding pattern.

They started at the bottom and went all the way up the first half of the hourglass and part way up the second, stopping just before they reached the middle of the second half. At the top of them, etched precisely into the glass, was the keyhole. It was a faint marking, but it was the one point on the glass that wasn't reflecting light, instead glowing from the light already within.

He heard footsteps then—slow, languid, but somehow also harsh and grating on his ears. Shahzad. "So you thought you could spill them, did you, while the rest of us were simply frozen in awe? You thought you were so much better, your mind so much quicker and legs so much faster than the rest of us?" The man placed his questions smoothly, voice running over like liquid, but Tahir could hear the anger underneath, threatening to boil over in an explosion.

He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

After a moment, Shahzad gave a short, condescending laugh. "Really, your arrogance is astounding."

He opened his mouth to make a retort on the man's own arrogance in thinking that he, of all the people in the world, should be the one to control the Sands of Time, but he bit back on his tongue. That wouldn't help now. It would only fan the flames of Shahzad's anger, and he'd be the one to have the worst of it in the end.

There was another disdainful laugh followed by footsteps walking away from him, becoming more and more distant sounding in the sand. After a few moments they stopped. He heard a deep sigh, then a soft chortle.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Shahzad said at last, not much of a question. "I used to think I wanted to spill them, too, more than anything. So I can empathize perhaps, but I can't find any sympathy for you. I can't understand wanting to spill them anymore, can't imagine feeling that way. I only want to be near them and feel their power radiating into me. Standing here next to them is barely enough; I want to possess them!"

Tahir frowned, hearing the wild passion in Shahzad's voice, risen in both volume and pitch to almost a desperate plea. He sounded like he was losing his mind, losing his touch on the world in place of this fierce longing for the Sands and whatever power they held.

"I can't believe it's finally here," Shahzad spoke again, his voice quieter now, murmuring to himself. "It's finally here, right within my grasp." There was the sound of rustling movement, and he touched the hourglass.

Tahir could feel it like a sudden jolt, as if the man had seized his own shoulder rather than only pressed his fingers lightly on the outside glass of the Sands. He felt a red hot flare in his mind then, of fear, of anger, but mostly of lust for power. It was a strange feeling. He knew that he, himself, wasn't having these emotions, but the man in front of him—the man he was _seeing_, with one hand resting lightly on the hourglass—had them strongly surging through his mind and body. And somehow, Tahir could feel them to, in a secondhand way, knowing strongly what they felt like, yet not containing them within himself.

It was Shahzad. The man in front of him, touching the Sands of Time was Shahzad. He was seeing Shahzad, his best friend, the man he'd wished to see a million times before but never had. Now he almost wished he couldn't see him.

He didn't want to look at this man with his cold, black eyes staring up at the golden hourglass, with that cruel longing for power—and _only_ power—driving him. He didn't want to look at this man with his thin lips and jaw squared away in a hard, determined grimace. He didn't want to look at this man with a stance so stiff and so tense, it looked like the only movements he ever made were the controlled fits of hard, cold rage.

So he didn't. He stared for a few moments until he found his friend in that man. He saw his friend, worn a little hard by grief but still there beneath it all. He saw his friend, desperate for help and security and turning to the only place he knew. He saw his friend staring with curiosity at the object he'd searched for for so long.

"Shahzad," he started, somewhat unsteadily. There had to be a way to bring him around. He could see Shahzad—the way he knew him—was still there. He just needed help, needed someone to bring him back. And Tahir was going to do that, if it was the last thing he did. "Shahzad, we found it. We can save Arabia now, just like we always wanted."

Shahzad turned toward him suddenly with dark, narrowed eyes. He still kept one hand on the Sands. "No," he said simply. "The Sands of Time belongs to me now. I won't let you take them away from me, Tahir. You've always taken everything away from me, but not this. Never this." He eyed them possessively again, running his hand slowly down the glass.

Tahir frowned again, feeling more and more disturbed at the way the man was fingering the Sands, caressing the glass like it was some soft animal or a trinket of sentimental value, not the object of extreme power, only to be used very wisely. "Shahzad," he said again, slowly, levelly. He had to sound reasonable; he had to find some way to get his friend back. "You don't need the Sands to rule, but the rest of Arabia _does_ need them to live."

Shahzad didn't even look at him.

Tahir pursed his lips. He thought of Xavia, lying in the sand back where he'd left her, covered in black welts and growing pale and cold, dying slowly. He started to feel angry now, angry that she should have to die when the cure was right in front of them, angry that the rest of Arabia would share her fate.

"Do you care nothing for your people, Shahzad?!" he shouted the question somewhat accusingly, but it was only fair. Shahzad knew this was wrong; he had the power to change things, but he wouldn't, because he was too fixated with how he would look ruling with the bright, golden hourglass beside him. It was Shahzad's fault.

The man turned towards him at last, saying nothing. He looked at him with an empty stare; the only emotion—if there _was_ any emotion—in his face was an indifferent aloofness, as if the situation at hand and the lives of his people had nothing at all to do with him.

"Do you care nothing for Xavia, Shahzad?" Tahir asked at last, trying to find some last ground to appeal to the man on, since nothing else was working. Shahzad had cared for Xavia, he'd thought. He listened to her, more than anyone else. She seemed to be the only one he _did_ listen to anymore. "She's dying, Shahzad," he said, his voice close to breaking. "She's dying. Just like Faiza."

Something seemed to break in Shahzad then. His eyes dropped down to his boots, and Tahir watched his arm fall from the hourglass. Then there was only the Sands in front of him that he could see, and he sat still, listening to Shahzad's breathing coming in long, slow sighs.

There were a few moments of silence, and Tahir arched his neck, beginning to feel the strain from the way his arms were still pinched behind his back, gripped tightly by the guards. It wasn't a comfortable position, but he was getting to Shahzad now, and he'd draw out this conversation as long as he had to if there was any hope of making things up with his best friend.

"Faiza..." Shahzad spoke at last, his voice low, just above a whisper. There was an almost overwhelming sense of longing and grief in the way he said her name. His throat sounded tight, like he was on the verge of tears.

Tahir bent his head down for a moment, feeling a twinge of remorse. They'd never talked about Faiza, really. After she died, Shahzad had just...shut down, but maybe if he'd tried harder to get through to him, they wouldn't be in this position now. He felt guilty using her memory against Shahzad when it caused him so much pain, but...it was the only argument he had left. He had to do something.

"She's gone, but she'd be proud of you spilling the Sands for Arabia. And Xavia...you could give her the chance you always wanted to give Faiza, Shahzad. You can help her live, if you just let me spill them."

The air was still and quiet for another long moment. Then there came a slow but harsh intake of breath, followed by a controlled exhale. "Faiza," Shahzad said again, but this time with a voice like iron, cold, unbendable iron. "Don't ever mention her name to me again."

"But, Shahzad—"

"I don't think you understand, Tahir. There may have been a time I wanted to spill the Sands of Time, but that time has long passed. I don't care anymore, and I have no wish to revisit my memories of that time. Things are better now, better than they ever were! I used to be a pawn in the hands of anyone smarter than me, but now...now I'm the most powerful sultan there ever was."

"Shahzad, this is wrong!" Tahir cut in, arguing still, pleading. "You have the one power to save all of your people, and all you think of is what it can do for you! You're sentencing innocent people to their deaths simply because you want to rule, when you already _are_ ruling!"

There was a pause. Finally Shahzad replied, "I'm sorry, Tahir, but...can't you feel it?" He gave short laugh. "I know you can, the way you could feel the Sands before! You have to! You know what I'm feeling now, it's...intoxicating, this power. I can feel it, radiating into my veins, this warmth, this...everything I ever wanted is mine now! I can get anything I want, anyone to carry out my commands, the world at my service." He laughed again. "Can't you feel it, Tahir? This is everything I've ever wanted, and I just can't give that up."

Tahir shook his head. He felt the same radiating warmth, reaching into his veins, into his heart, but...it wasn't what Shahzad felt; that he was sure of. It was soothing and calming, but it carried with it the weight of duty. It was a heavy weight, but it was what was right, and that knowledge was what sustained him.

"It's not like that for me, Shahzad," he replied at last. "The power is there, but it's not mine to have. It's too much for anyone to have. I understand now why they hid it away. No one should be able to have that much power."

"Well, obviously you can't understand. I'm sorry you couldn't fulfill your own goals in reaching the Sands, but they must stay in the hands of the sultan. I can't have you trying to spill them again, and as a precaution, you'll be kept a fair distance away, somewhere where you can't even see them, and you'll be heavily guarded. If you so much as try to escape," he paused for a moment, "you will be killed without further consideration. Guards, take him away."

Tahir listened to the cool, indifferent tones of Shahzad's voice, and also to the underlying malice beneath. He couldn't see the man, but if he could, he knew what he would look like: hard, rigid, and cruel.

* * *

He was thrust roughly into the tent and tumbled down awkwardly, landing on his left side. He felt a dull, throbbing pain in his shoulder, smarting where it had hit the ground, and his skin burned a little from rubbing against the sand. It didn't matter, though. He'd had worse, hadn't he? Yes, Shahzad had beat him—or had him beaten—a fair many times, worse than this. And he'd almost died of dehydration. That had been much worse, he reminded himself. Much, much worse. But he hurt now. Everything hurt now.

He listened to the footsteps outside. There were the ringing, clanking ones of the Thieves who were still chained lumbering around. There were the two gaits of Nadim and Jalal walking side by side, at times awkward and nervous, at times calm and confident. There were the slow, languid steps of the wandering Royal Guard and the quick, determined ones of those set upon their tasks. And there, harsh, pounding, and proud, were the steps of Shahzad marching away.

He rolled onto his back but didn't bother sitting up. His arms were tied behind his back, and his legs were knotted together, so it wouldn't be an easy task. Even if it had been easy, it didn't seem worth it.

He listened a while longer, and it seemed like most of the steps died away, leaving him in silence. They'd all come, walking a long trek, probably stopping someplace behind the wall, and they'd watched him be thrown into his prison, and then they'd left him to be. Well, the guards were still there, of course. He could hear them breathing heavily, no doubt standing vigilant in case he happened to break out of the ropes and dash outside to fight his way past the multitude of other guards that had to be surrounding the Sands by now and tried to spill them.

The desperation in the idea was almost laughable—like something he would attempt. He forced himself upright, trying to laugh and failing miserably, ending with his lips pinched together and his face held tight, to keep from falling apart.

Finally, he gave up and felt tears trickle out of both of his eyes. He felt ridiculous. He hadn't cried in a long time, so long he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Miserable. Worse than the harsh desert heart, worse than dehydration, worse than being beaten until he couldn't stand up by himself. Like having his chest pressed in and collapsed on itself.

But it was good, too. He needed to get the pain out and feel the bitterness leave him. He needed to be alright, and this was the only way.

In a moment, he was sobbing full out, with his shoulders shaking and his lip quivering and the tears just kept coming, in dense saltwater like the sea. He knew the guards outside could hear him, and he knew that he should be ashamed to cry within their hearing. And to some degree, he was, but that shame, along with everything else, didn't seem to matter much now.

He'd failed. He'd failed at everything he'd been trying to do for his entire life. The Sands of Time were as good as gone. He could have spilled them, if he'd just been faster maybe, or if he'd had better tactics in trying to talk to Shahzad. And Shahzad...he'd failed there, too, and lost the best friend he ever had. Shahzad was turning against him—he had been for a long time now, but somehow he'd always thought the man would come back, turn back around. Now it seemed like he was turning into some kind of power-crazed tyrant that wouldn't listen to anyone.

And it was all his fault. He should have been there more when Shahzad needed him, after Faiza died. He should have made Shahzad talk about it, to get his feelings out. He should have...looked harder for the Sands while she was still alive. Then maybe Shahzad wouldn't have blamed him, maybe he never would have turned against them all. If he'd talked to him more, if he'd been there, he could have saved his best friend from what he was becoming now. He _should_ have saved him.

Now he'd lost everything. His best friend was gone. The Sands of Time were gone, or at least too far out of his reach to even consider spilling them. He wasn't allowed near any of the other Thieves, so they were more or less gone as well. And Xavia...she'd be dead in a few days, maybe another week or two.

He was their leader. He should have been able to do something. He should have saved them all, but instead...he'd lost them all.

"Tahir?"

He jumped and abruptly cut off his crying at the sound of Xavia's voice, somewhere a foot or two from his left side. He hadn't even known she was near him, much less in such close proximity. She sounded weak and tired, but more conscious than she'd been in a long time.

"Xavia?" he whispered her name back, hardly daring to raise his voice for fear that she'd just disappear, that he'd only imagined her voice to begin with. "Are you really here?"

He heard a soft laugh that turned into a feeble cough, and he knew that it was really her, and he wasn't just imagining things, and he was actually getting to talk to her, at least one more time. That was what he'd wanted before he'd taken off for the Sands, and now he had it! Only, he didn't actually have the Sands anymore, and she was going to die, and he wasn't, and it was all because he'd failed.

"Tahir," she said his name again softly, just breathing it into the air.

He turned towards her voice and tried to scoot closer to her on the sand. He couldn't reach out to touch her, but he felt her fingers reach for him and brush lightly against his arm. Her touch was cold, fingers almost like ice, but there was an immediate calm following and a warmth in him that had nothing to do with temperature, and he could see her again.

He was hoping to find her better since she was awake, but her face was still pale and wan. All of the raw, black welts were still scattered over her pasty skin, and her hair was limp and sticking to her neck. Still, she smiled at him, and she still seemed like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and the bravest girl he'd ever known.

He felt a pang of guilt in not realizing her presence until she spoke. He should have known, should have felt her, if not while she was unconscious, then the moment she woke up. He should have heard her breathing at the very least! But he was too caught up in his own grief to even think where she would be. They must have brought her into the tent before they threw him in, while he had stood waiting. He should have asked about her.

She was looking at him, like she expected him to say something. He wasn't sure what to say, but he knew from conversations with Faiza that she probably wouldn't be awake long. He needed to use the time he had.

He swallowed and forced a smile. "Well, how do you feel?" he asked at last.

She looked at him for a moment, then sighed, moving her eyes downward. "I'm dying," she replied after a moment.

He felt a surge of defiance at her simple statement. "You're not!" he almost shouted out her, then lowered his voice, remembering the guards. "Xavia, I won't let you die. I told you I'd save you, and I will. We...we found the Sands of Time, we found the cure! You'll get better."

She shook her head at him sadly. "Then why were you crying? And...why are you still here?" She looked close to crying herself then, as he noticed her lip was quivering, and her eyes looked strangely bright and watery, and she seemed to be trembling all over.

He sighed and put his head on his knee again. He didn't know why he lied to her. It wasn't any use, and it hadn't helped at all the last time he'd lied to her. He just...didn't want her to feel the same desperation he was feeling. He wanted her to have hope that she'd recover, wanted to make her believe in it. But he knew she didn't. Maybe it was himself that he wanted to convince.

He looked at her again. She gazed silently back and gave him a small smile. She wasn't pressing him for answers, but he knew she deserved some. He drew a breath.

"I...I couldn't spill them. I tried; I was there, and I saw them, but...I wasn't fast enough. I got caught and then Shahzad...I couldn't make him understand. He only wants them for himself, and I couldn't change that, and now...it's all for nothing. The guards will be surrounding them by now."

They were both silent for a long moment.

Finally Xavia spoke, "You saw the Sands of Time?"

He smiled, recalling the memory of them, in all their brilliant gold and sapphire and glass, now faded from his mind. "They were beautiful, Xavia. You would have loved them. They were like those rings, only...bigger and a million times brighter."

She smiled and closed her eyes. He watched her chest rise and fall slowly in deep, full breaths. "I think I've seen them in my dreams," she said after a moment with her eyes still shut, smile still shining softly on her face. A few more seconds went by, and she opened her eyes with a more mischievous smile and asked, "Did Nadim like them?"

Tahir laughed. "He seemed fascinated from what I heard from him, though I wasn't there for long. But I'm sure he's enjoying this to the utmost."

She nodded, and he watched her some more, marveling in the fact that he could just sit there and watch her, and with a few words she could put him more at ease than he'd been in a long time. He'd been so worried about failing, and when he told her what happened, he was afraid she might judge him somehow, but...she didn't. She never would; he knew that now.

"Tahir," she looked at him again, holding his gaze with steady eyes. "I'm going to fall back asleep soon."

He smiled at the way she said it, so solemn like she was telling him something of great importance, or some dark secret meant only for him.

She smiled back for a moment, then sobered and went on. "But before I do, I want you to know that whatever happens to me," she took a breath, "it's not your fault, even if I die. You did everything you could, and I'll never, ever blame you. I only wish...this wouldn't have happened to me, and I could help you...somehow." She frowned slightly and bit her lip, and he knew it was bothering her, that she'd been stuck lying there doing nothing, while he was trying to give his life away for her.

"It's not your fault, Xavia. It could have happened to anyone, and...there's no use blaming yourself." He mentally gave a humorless laugh at himself. That was probably a lesson he could use to learn himself.

She smiled. "And Tahir, don't give up. Things will get better. If not for me, then for Arabia. I'm...sure you'll...find...a..." her voice grew softer, trailing off into the distance as her eyes drooped shut, and he was never quite positive what she was sure he'd find, but he smiled and brushed her hair back from her face until she faded from his vision once more.

* * *

I finally updated! Yay! And with a long chapter, I might add. So it was a wait, but...worth it? And I'm getting more and more into this story, so I anticipating sticking with it to the end, which will be 3-5 chapters from now. You might have noted that this isn't actually the climax...it seems that it all drags out a bit, so there might actually be another chapter that still won't be the climax, but it will be following that, I assure you. So now is the time for you to review! Yes, that means you!


	34. Chapter 34

The light flowing from the Sands was intoxicating, seeping through his skin, pouring into his very being with an exhilarating power. The Sands within the hourglass—now still and floating in tranquility, now blowing and moving like a sandstorm only barely contained within the glass—were so...bright, with such a fierce intensity, all he could do was stare, feel the surge of power, of strength of...freedom.

The Royal Guard was struggling to tie ropes onto the columns of the hourglass now, surrounding it and circling it, but he paid them no mind, seeing only the Sands, knowing that he was finally _liberated_. He had nothing to fear now, standing in the light of the Sands that guarded him from anyone who would stand against him. No one could touch him; no one would dare to speak with him with reproach anymore. Not even Tahir, once so bold, now lowered to nothing. Tahir couldn't take this away from him. It was his and only his.

He had everything he'd ever wanted now. It occurred to him suddenly, as he shut his eyes and simply _felt _the Sands in their warmth and enchantment. This was his dream. This was what he'd been after all along. Now he could be that great sultan he'd dreamt of being; now he could be like...like his father.

He opened his eyes and the effect of feeling the Sands faded, though not entirely. He could still feel their luminescence, see their glow, though his focus was elsewhere now. His father was a great man. For as long as he could remember, everyone had always spoken to him of how well his father ruled the country, how everything he did was for the people. He was a selfless, just leader, commanding respect out of his own character rather than only his station in life. He never would have taken the Sands of Time for himself, and Shahzad had to wonder, to do so...was he...wrong, somehow?

One of the Royal Guard moved away from the rest of them that surrounded the hourglass and began to move towards him now. Shahzad straightened, trying to ignore the blaring differences between his father and himself, and pulled himself to his full height, keeping his eyes on the man coming toward him.

"Your majesty," the man began upon reaching him, "we've tied the ropes as you ordered, but we still can't get the thing to move. It's just too big and too heavy for us."

Shahzad looked over the man. He was heavily muscled, as most of the Royal Guard was, and he was panting in the hot sun, with sweat gleaming bright on his forehead. It was obvious he'd been working hard. Back at the hourglass, he could see the men were still trying to move the Sands, gripping hard at the ropes and tugging for all they were worth, to no avail.

"Well..." he began, then stopped. 'Well' wasn't a very authoritative way to start a sentence. His father had never started sentences with 'well.' It was too simple, too indecisive, beating around the bush. He needed to bark out another order, a plausible solution. The trouble was, he couldn't think of anything at all. If these strong men were trying their hardest and failing, what more was there to do?

The man in front of him was staring with puzzlement, his brow slightly creased. He wasn't used to waiting around for his superiors to come to a decision, no doubt. Mahmud didn't do it; his father didn't do it. Shahzad pursed his lips, feeling sweat break out on his own brow. They could—well, if they...well, nothing. He had no solution, and the silence seemed to crowd around him, pressing, waiting for an answer.

He swallowed, eyeing the Sands again, in all their brilliance. The light flowed and ebbed within the glass, striking out in beams towards him as sunlight glinted against flecks of sand. He felt warmth growing in his chest, spreading to his fingertips, all throughout him. Warmth...sweeping away any feelings of unease or unworth, until it was only the Sands, encompassing him. The hourglass began to blur in his eyes, and all he could see was gold...gold...gold. He was beginning to feel drowsy and unable to think of anything but the light and beauty of the Sands, their complete perfection, their power..._his_ power.

He glanced back at the man in front of him and answered him firmly, "Take some more men, and put a few more on each rope, and move all of the ropes up so that you can put some men pushing directly on the columns themselves. And perhaps put some pushing on the bottom plate, to help it slide better. Use some of the Thieves if you have to."

It seemed so simple now, and he barely put any effort into the order, only speaking in the deep and resonant tone his father had always used. And the man listened intently while he spoke, then gave a distinct nod. "Yes, sir," he agreed heartily and immediately started off in the other direction to deliver the commands to the rest of the men working.

Shahzad watched the man deliver the orders, then looked back at the flowing gold of the Sands. They streamed and sparkled exactly the way he knew they would, like he'd never really looked away. He could feel the same patterns within himself, in swells of emotions rushing beneath his skin, giving him...everything he needed to rule. He knew all the answers now, played like a rhythm within the hourglass and also in his own heart, a sweet, unwinding rhythm, drawing him in into the Sands, closer and closer.

He couldn't be wrong about this, even if it wasn't what his father would have done. How could anything that felt so right, so natural and wonderful, possibly be wrong? And in the old days, the rulers had always used the Sands of Time to help them rule. It was his by rights. He would use the Sands to rule well, like his father had, like he was beginning to do now. It would be a good thing, not bad, not evil. Tahir was wrong in what he said. The Sands would be used to help him rule well. Where was the harm in that? Nowhere.

Something would have to be done about Tahir, though. When they got back to the city, he couldn't be let go, to come sneaking in and trying to spill the Sands at any given time. Tahir was a security risk, and they needed to find some permanent solution. There only remained the question of what that solution would be. He could be locked in the dungeon, Shahzad supposed, for...ever, if need be. That seemed almost petty, though, and an indecisive solution at best. There had to be something better. He could...execute him.

He swallowed suddenly. Execute? Tahir? The word sounded so cold and remote, a hard and glossy exterior for the real term lying beneath...murder. Murdering his best friend because...because why? Because one of them was a traitor, that was why. But...which one of them was the traitor, and which was the betrayed?

He looked at the Sands, as if expecting an answer from them. They only glowed as usual, but he felt a slight rush of assurance, a rush of power and belonging that was his, sweeping through his mind. This light, this power was his, and Tahir was the traitor. Executing him...wouldn't _really_ be murder.

It was his right—his duty—to get rid of traitors. They were a threat to Arabia, and Tahir would only be an example of what would happen to those who betrayed Arabia: death, on an execution block. The sand sparkled within the glass, reflecting the sunlight, and he smiled, slowly. _All, all his._ Tahir's death would only be a demonstration of his power, a power greater than anyone else's.

He stared at the hourglass, watching the gold, drowsy and hypnotized, feeling the magic rushing through his veins, stirring him to...happiness, reassurance, for the first time in who knew how long. He was free from all worry. He felt a slight humming in his mind, the flow from the Sands rippling in his head, quiet, comforting...

Suddenly it seemed sharp and discordant when he saw the Thieves walking towards the hourglass, the fourteen chained men all walking in step with Nadim and Jalal ambling along next to them. They were going to be closer to the Sands than he was; they were going to be _touching_ it! It wasn't right that they should be touching it, fingering it, _soiling _it with their dirty, unworthy hands.

And they _all _would be touching it—both the Thieves and the Royal Guard, and he knew that they both had a distinct lack of respect for him. They were all cheap, common simpletons, lower than him in so many different ways, nowhere near good enough to be touching _his_ Sands of Time. He, _only_ he, should be touching it. It _was_ his after all, and he was the sultan, not anyone else. And they—they were all his enemies, and he—he hated them, hated them all!

He watched the Thieves bend down to reach the bottom plate of the hourglass, to try and slide it along the sand. He cringed as they touched it, their grimy, contemptible hands on the beautiful sapphire. The expression on Nadim's face when he peered through the glass to look at the flowing, dancing golden Sands within was too much for Shahzad. The Sands belonged to _him_, not Nadim!

The hum inside his head, so sweet and harmonious only a moment ago, had risen to a loud buzzing in his ears, pulses heightened with flares of heat and anger and...jealousy. The Sand within the hourglass seemed to jump and spike in quick, wild patterns, and he felt his heartbeat rise to match it.

He took a step forward, fully determined to take back his order and allow none of them to touch it, only himself, but he stopped himself before he got any farther. He needed to rationalize. If he was going to rule with the Sands, he needed them in his city. And in order for the Sands to be in the city, they would need a large amount of people to move them there. If even the Thieves were needed for that, it would simply have to be that way. Still, when he looked at the Sands flowing and raining within the glass, he couldn't subdue his longing to be with them—and have everyone else far away.

To try and calm himself, he turned to the other direction, facing the wall with the narrow opening where the horses had broken through. At least...Tahir wasn't anywhere near the Sands. He was back there, under guard in the tent, and his hopes of spilling the Sands of Time were crushed. Shahzad smiled, then frowned. Tahir deserved this, for everything he'd done...didn't he? But then...he wished...when they were younger, they'd both dreamt of finding the Sands of Time together, celebrating together. Finding them together for real had been...much different, to say the least.

He glanced behind him at the Sands again and felt their brilliance fill him until he breathed in time with their pulsing, thought in time with their shining. Tahir...didn't matter. Only this mattered: the Sands, belonging to him.

He heard shouting then, men's voices raised against each other and a shuffling, pushing sound in the sand. He dropped his eyes from the hourglass to look at the commotion surrounding it. All of the men seemed to be crowding each other out, shoving and arguing, and two of them were on the ground in an all out brawl, punching and kicking and scratching at each other.

He frowned and immediately started towards them at a quick, deliberate pace. As he walked, he was acutely aware of how much closer to the Sands he was getting, how they were taking over him, pushing their power into his skin, and he felt...amazing, full of an authority he'd never felt before. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a raised voice once he reached the men, glancing at all the unruly disorder and trying to keep his attention on them and not the light of the Sands.

The two men on the ground stopped fighting at the sound of his voice, and they both stood up, hastily brushing the sand off their clothing. Their shoulders were slumped slightly with their heads bent down, obviously ashamed of themselves. One of them glanced up at him though, and there was still a wild, angry, and unsatisfied glint in his eye.

"What's going on?" Shahzad asked again, loud enough for all to hear him and immediately hush. He was surprised by how easily his voice came, without any stuttering or searching for words. The power he felt rushing through him was invigorating, giving tone and command to his question.

They all glanced at each other, eyes shifting back and forth, but no one would speak or volunteer any explanation of what was happening. "Captain Mahmud!" Shahzad shouted at last, searching through the men for their leader, since no one else was stepping up.

There was silence again, until at last the man shouldered his way through his underlings, squeezing between the mass of the Royal Guard and the smaller cluster of the Thieves. He bore a disheveled look, with a thick sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair mussed with a tired look in his eyes. However, he managed a berating look at his men, especially the two apart from the others, then turned to Shahzad with a nod. "Your majesty."

"Can you tell me what's happening here, Captain?" Shahzad asked again. "Why aren't you all attempting to move the Sands as I ordered?"

The captain didn't answer right away, instead glancing all around him, brow furrowing, mouth twisting into an almost spiral line, as if searching for the answer from somewhere else. Shahzad was about to repeat his question when the man finally spoke, "I'm sorry, sir. My men...they won't take orders from anyone, not even yourself." He turned, glancing at the Sands behind him, and when he looked at Shahzad again there seemed to be a hard, cold glint in his eye. "And frankly," he began, "I don't see why they should."

"What?" Shahzad asked, startled. What was the captain getting at? Of course the men should take orders! They were the Royal Guard; that was what they did. How else would anything get done?

Captain Mahmud stared back at him with what seemed like a very thinly veiled contempt. "I don't see why anyone should take orders from you, the foolish son of a greater man. You never studied under him, you never paid any attention to your father's doings. I did. I don't see why you should have the Sands."

The way he said it made it sound like he thought _he _should be the one to have the Sands. For goodness' sakes, what were they all thinking? Was this some kind of joke? He was the sultan; the Sands of Time were his, and there should be no argument about that! And yet Captain Mahmud had practically just proclaimed treason in his face, and he still stared back at him with all seriousness.

A quiet had settled over all of the men. Shahzad glanced at them, then at the captain, trying to reason this out. He looked at the Sands, quietly glinting as the sunlight hit the specks of sand and turned them on fire. _His, all his._ "Captain, you will not speak to me in this manner again. You may be the captain of the Guard, but I am the sultan, and you would do well to remember it." He spoke quietly but icily, another tone he hadn't realized he had the capability of using, yet it came so easily now with the Sands shining in his eyes.

Mahmud blinked then and seemed to shake himself, looking at Shahzad the way he'd always looked at him again, without the fierce contempt. He frowned and brought his hand upward, staring at his fingers like he didn't recognize them. "Your majesty, I—I'm sorry," he stuttered, seemingly horrified at himself. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't know what came over me." He brought his hand into a fist and rubbed it across his chin, frown deepening with thought.

Shahzad looked at the man a moment more. He knew that the man could have been tried for treason for what he just said, could have probably been killed without a trial, for all the witnesses there were. Yet...he didn't feel like having him killed, and the man seemed to be sorry, so he would...let it go, for now. Feeling puzzled, he at last turned to the two men who had been fighting. "And you two, what is the problem with you?"

The one standing closer to him turned to glare at the other with an undisguised malice and disgust. Shahzad noticed the man's eyes were bright—almost too bright with a wild, feverish look. He answered the question readily in an accusing, too-loud tone, "He was trying to stand next to the Sands and hold onto the column when he's supposed to be on the ropes. _I'm _supposed to be holding the column!"

The other man glanced back with equal distaste, then turned his eyes sullenly to the ground. After a moment though, he glanced back up lazily, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "You are not," he muttered. "I'm on the column. You just decided you'd try and steal it from me."

Shahzad stared at them both in disbelief. "This is what this is all about?" he asked. "Who stands where, and who pulls on the column or the rope?" When he received no answer but empty stares, he turned to the rest of them all standing around and staring equally silent. "And you, were you all arguing about similar disputes?"

Again, there was a prolonged silence, then one of the men spoke quietly, eyes fixated on the ground. "We all just wanted to be closer to the Sands, sir."

Closer to the Sands? He couldn't believe the stupidity of their arguments—calmly dismissing the fact that he'd had similar feelings of jealousy only a few moments ago. But that had been different. The Sands belonged to him; it was only natural that he would feel some sense of possession, but the rest of them, they were just moving them for him! It wasn't as if it was theirs to keep; they were just doing their jobs, and they ought to have kept their feelings out of it.

"Well, I didn't want to be close to them!" a small and stocky man spoke after a short interval, far louder and shouting aggressively, wanting his voice to be heard. "I wanted to be as far from them as possible! They're not natural, they aren't, and we ought to stay away. Just look what madness it's thrown us all into already."

A tall man beside the one who'd just spoken gave a loud snort. "It's nothing but an oversized hourglass. It's not doing anything to any of us, and you're all a bunch of superstitious dolts if you think it is. Might as well just leave it here. It's more trouble than it's worth."

Before Shahzad could muster a reply to either of them, another man stepped forward out of the crowd, more timidly than the rest of them and appearing younger than most. He sought out Shahzad's attention with large, dark eyes and started to speak, "Sir, it's not my place to say, but...I really think we ought to spill them, like that other man—Tahir—wanted."

Up until now, Shahzad had listened to the men discuss this passively with very little feeling, but this—this was just too much. "You think _what?_" he thundered, feeling all of his anger surge within him and bubble over.

The man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing at his throat. "I mean no disrespect, sir. It's just—I have two little brothers at home sick with the plague, and there's so many other sick people—and, well...you're the sultan, and if you don't do anything to heal anybody, who will?"

Shahzad stared at the man—boy was more like it; he looked younger than Shahzad by three or four years—then looked at the way the sunlight fell through hourglass, into streams that took off dancing and pulsing into his very soul. "That's your opinion?" he asked in a dull, quiet monotone, without hardly considering what he was saying.

The boy looked like he wanted nothing more than to run and hide, forgetting that he'd ever had an opinion, but surprisingly, he straightened to his full height, held up his head high, and said calmly, "Yes, sir."

Shahzad looked at him for another long moment, feeling the drowsy light filtering into his eyes, the deep, pulsing light, reaching into his chest, the humming reverberating in his skull with one single thought. _The Sands belonged to him. _And he could do what he pleased with them. His eyes flicked to Captain Mahmud. "Kill him."

The outrage that broke out at those words was deafening, erupting out of the men thundering in his ears.

"You can't kill him; he's one of us!"

"It was one thing when you killed one of the Thieves, but this is the Royal Guard we're talking about!"

"Let him die—if he wants to spill the Sands, he deserves it."

"Kill the Thieves along with him! Make all the traitors die!"

"Why should you be the one to decide who lives and who doesn't? We should the be the ones deciding!"

"Why should you be the one with the Sands? We're the people, and we should have it!"

"I should have it!"

"You wouldn't know what to do with it! I should have it!"

"Nobody should have it! It isn't anybody's to have!"

Before Shahzad could do or say anything, everyone was screaming at everyone else in an incoherent mass of voices. The boy who'd wanted the Sands spilled was looking around him forlornly and Mahmud looked almost the same, before he as well started to shout at the men around him. It seemed that he might have been trying to calm them down, but no one could make out what he was saying anyway. Shahzad didn't even try.

He looked at the Sands, and the light seemed to be flashing more violently, more bizarrely as the shouting rose in pitch. He himself felt...angry, almost wanting to start in the shouting himself, proclaiming that the Sands were his and his alone, but what he felt even more was just...confusion. The Sands were his, weren't they, so why was everyone else losing their heads over them? And the humming in his head had risen to a piercing, deafening drone, almost blocking out the shouting completely. His head was beginning to ache from the sound, feeling like it would explode at any given moment.

He felt a firm tap on his shoulder then and whirled around to find Nadim behind him. He had no wish to talk to one of the Thieves, one of the _traitors_, but the man looked like he had something to say to him. "What do you want?" he asked, raising his voice to a sharp and grating pitch to make it heard above the others.

Nadim glanced at the crowd of men, then grabbed Shahzad's arm, pulling him a short distance away, where they still had to talk loudly to be heard, but not _quite_ so loud. "I think you should know," Nadim began, "that...I don't think this is a good idea."

"You don't think what's a good idea?" Shahzad yelled back.

"This," Nadim said, waving his hand toward the giant hourglass. "I don't think we should be moving the Sands, and it's not just because I'm one of the Forty Thieves and am sworn to spill them. Just look at the men, acting like they've all gone mad!"

Shahzad did look at the men, frowning as he did so. They _did_ look that way, all arguing and shoving at each other, worse than when he'd first walked over and asked what was happening. He didn't know what had come over them, but he still didn't see where Nadim was going with this. "Yes, so?" he asked at last, turning back to the man in front of him.

"Well, I think it's the Sands," Nadim began excitedly, waving his hands around. He watched Shahzad for a reaction, and, after receiving only a skeptical frown, plunged forward again. "I know it sounds odd, but...the Sands have been gone for a long time, an eon, practically. And they obviously have a large amount of power that I'm sure you've felt as well as I have—as all of us have, from looking at the men." He cast a sidelong glance at the crowd that still hadn't settled down. "And what I'm trying to say is, I don't think our human bodies or minds—or both, most likely—are accustomed to that kind of power radiating out to us. It's been gone for so long, we can't function with it now, and it's throwing us into madness. I can't even imagine what it would be like in the city, with several times this many people."

Shahzad glanced at the Sands, considering. What Nadim said did make sense, and the Sands had been gone for a long time, but...the light was so gold, the aura they emitted was so warm, too breathtaking, too reassuring to just...leave it here. It...belonged to him, and it felt so wonderful. He wouldn't let it go for anything. "That's ridiculous, Nadim," he objected without feeling. "The Sands aren't doing anything to any of us." As he said so, he took a step towards them almost involuntarily, feeling drawn to their light, their sweet, intoxicating light.

"Aren't they?" Nadim asked dryly.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" he snapped, turning back towards the man. "Forget about the Sands? Just leave them here after coming all this way?"

"That's the idea," Nadim replied. He coughed slightly. "Or you could...you know...spill them."

Shahzad's brow darkened, and he straightened to his full height with the authority he knew he had with the Sands. "I won't do that," he said quietly, intensely, with a full warning of what would happen if Nadim so much as threatened to defy him.

Nadim sighed. "Well, you could at least think about it. Somewhere away from the Sands, preferably. It's beginning to give me a headache just being around them. I think I'll go back to the camp, if you don't mind." With that, he turned on his heel and started to walk back towards the wall.

Shahzad watched him go silently. The man did have a point there; his own head was pounding in his skull. It might be nice to get away, at least for a few minutes. He looked at the men crowding and pushing each other, wondering at how they were still keeping it up so strong after these several minutes. How much could they really have to say about the matter?

He took a few steps toward them and shouted, "Back to camp, everyone! We're taking a break!"

Surprisingly, they seemed to hear him and after a few minutes quieted down slightly, beginning to break away from each other and move towards the wall. He moved on ahead of them and as he went, he realized that the humming—along with his headache—severely diminished the farther he got from the Sands.

* * *

Tahir sat in silence, picking up handfuls of sand, and feeling and listening to the way the tiny grains slowly slipped through his fingers. After a moment, he sighed, letting his palm fall flat upon the ground. The worst part about this was the waiting. He didn't even know what he was waiting for—just for something, _anything _to happen.

Xavia could wake up; then he'd have someone to talk to. Xavia could...die; then he'd...have something to mourn at least, instead of waiting in dread for it to happen. They could start moving back home again; then he would at least have something to do. They could...execute him; then it would all be over. But none of these things had happened, and none of them had given any sign of happening, and Tahir was beginning to feel like he would lose his mind.

He had only a vague idea of how long he'd been sitting in the tent—one day, he figured, from the way the temperature had dropped for a while, then risen to much too hot and now was beginning to fall again. One day, and it felt like ten thousand. He didn't know how long he could sit here...waiting.

It was probably mid-afternoon, he'd reasoned from the temperature. And that meant the men were out at the hourglass, trying—and seemingly failing, from the amount of time it was taking—to move it. That meant he still had two or three hours before they came back, and he could listen to the sound of their ruckus and try to determine what progress they'd made.

Until then, he could do...nothing. He sighed and laid back against the sand, staring upward into the nothingness beyond his eyes. He was getting tired of looking at and doing nothing. He wished Xavia was awake, so he could see her at least, but she wasn't. And there was only...nothing.

He could consider all the moments in his life that had brought him up to this point of ultimate failure...but it seemed a worthless pursuit. He'd done it often enough in the time he'd been stuck here, and whenever he heard Xavia's breath next to him, he realized that there was very little he would change if he had to do it over again, probably only matters where Shahzad was concerned, reaching out to him more. A few choices he'd made as the leader of the Thieves perhaps.

When he was newly elected as their leader, he'd made a rule that any of them who told anyone else about them should be killed. He hadn't realized what it meant until one of his best friends was caught telling Captain Mahmud about one of their hideouts, so that he'd have enough money to feed his family. Tahir had broken his own rule then and didn't kill the man, and he'd often wondered how any of the rest of them still respected him after that, but somehow they did. Needless to say, he'd thought twice about the rules he made after that.

He sighed and sat up again, then stopped, listening. There were footsteps and voices outside—not the ones of the guards assigned to him, though. It sounded like the men coming back, but it was too early for that—unless they'd managed to move the hourglass somehow and were beginning to prepare to leave.

He listened, trying to distinguish individual voices from the loud din, but they seemed noisier than usual and difficult to make out. At last he heard Shahzad's voice say something including, "...take a break for today," and Mahmud's answer, "Probably a good idea...what should the men do for now?" There was some order from Shahzad, relayed and slightly amplified by Mahmud, and then the crowd of voices took over too loud to make out any actual words.

Tahir relaxed slightly, as from what he could tell, nothing very interesting was happening. They seemed to have been unsuccessful in moving the hourglass again and so had come back early. Slightly odd, since all this time trying to move it was going to use up rations, but Shahzad was the sultan, and when they took breaks was his choice, after all.

After a moment, he noticed voices closer to him—a question, from the lilting tone at the end. Then there was some slow, halting discussion, along with noises like cloth being hit, and at last an answer, he supposed. Then he heard the tent flap being pushed to the side, with the airy whir of cloth floating through the air, and someone walked inside and sat down in front of him.

"You're a difficult man to see, Tahir," Nadim spoke suddenly from out of the nothing with a slight laugh. "They conferred among themselves for a bit, then patted me down for weapons and doubled the guards around us...I don't know what they're expecting us to do, though I suppose we have pulled a fair amount of tricks with them before."

"Nadim!" Tahir exclaimed, surprised and quite pleased to be with his friend once again. "It's good to hear your voice. I didn't think they'd let anyone come in here besides the guards."

"Well, like I said, it wasn't easy. They were quite reluctant, but I promised not to do anything too conniving. Now how has life been inside the tent? You know you're rather lucky to be in here. It was steaming hot outside all day, and I'm sure it was much cooler here in the shade," he spoke merrily, without a hint of the more troubling aspects of their current predicament.

Tahir laughed in spite of himself. "It actually got hot in here as well, but it was tolerable...temperature-wise anyway." He sighed and turned towards the sound of Xavia's breathing, willing her to wake up and speak to them both. She didn't.

"Did she wake up at all?" Nadim asked, more quiet and solemn now.

"Once, right after they threw me in here. Not since then."

"Tahir, I'm sorry. I wish...that's what I came to talk to you about, actually," Nadim started to speak faster now, speeding into the real discussion while lowering his voice against any listening ears outside. "The Sands—we didn't make any progress with it today, and I'm not sure if we ever will, because—well, for one, it's ridiculously huge, but more than that, the effect it's having on the men..."

"What effect?" Tahir asked, frowning now with a puzzled interest.

"Well, I've been reading all the marks on the wall I can find, and using my prior knowledge of the Sands, combined with my reasoning, and...from what I can tell, the Sands...affect different people in different ways, change the way they think about things...or, well, not change them so much as...heighten them. It's not necessarily a bad thing even, but on the whole, it's...driving us crazy."

"What?" Tahir asked again, feeling that he was not understanding the point very well. The Sands didn't seem to be driving him crazy when _he_ was near it. But then, he did remember the way Shahzad had looked and sounded around it, and...it almost did seem like the Sands were having some strange, power-lusting effect on him.

"Alright, the Sands have been lost for years and years and years, correct?"

"Yes..." Tahir replied dubiously.

"And they also emit a strange sort of power, one that can be used to rule Arabia, or that could heal Arabia if they are spilled, correct?"

"Yes..." Tahir said again.

"Well, in the old days, people were used to that power. They could live with it, with no negative effects. But us...it's been so long since the Sands have been around, no one alive today knows how to deal with them anymore. They do something to our minds, it's...not good. You should have been out there today, Tahir, it was madness. I personally felt a deep foreboding when I looked at it...not as if it itself was evil, but...it was like I could hear the voices from ages past, telling me what had happened to their own rulers, giving a warning," Nadim paused and took a few deep breaths and went on, "And all of the other men fighting over who got to be closest to it, Mahmud told Shahzad to his face that he didn't think he should be ruling, Shahzad was...practically drooling over it."

"Drooling?"

"Well, not quite, but you get the point. It wasn't always that drastic, though. Some of the men were superstitious about it; some of the more skeptical ones couldn't even feel its effect, because they just didn't believe in it...one of them actually proposed spilling it."

"Really?" Tahir asked, with some interest. Perhaps...in another time, another place, the man could have been recruited to join the Forty Thieves. They were beginning to fall short of forty now, and they'd need another member or two. But...it wasn't much use anymore.

"Yes, he was a younger man of the guard. Two sick brothers at home, he said."

"I wish we could help him," Tahir said morosely, brushing fiercely at some of the sand sticking to the palm of his hand. It wasn't right that so many people had to die, so many people had to lose the ones they loved when the answer was right in front of them. The sand wouldn't come off. From the way Nadim's breath was coming down towards his knees, he could guess the man was staring at the way he was almost violently brushing his hands together. He stopped. "Well, go on," he prompted at last.

"Well, my main point was that when we get it to the city—if we ever do manage to move it—the whole city is going to go insane. We can't let that happen. It'll be madness and mayhem, people killing each other in the streets, everyone trying to press into the palace, Shahzad will probably be assassinated..."

"And what do you propose doing?" Tahir asked, slightly more harshly than he meant it. "I can't very well get out of here and spill them now, can I?"

There was a pause, and Tahir had to wonder what Nadim was thinking as he gave no reply, the only sound in the room being their breaths and Xavia's, with Nadim's coming perhaps slightly faster than normal.

"Tahir..." Nadim began at last, "you could...give me the key, you know. I could do it. I mean—I'm not saying that I want to, because really I don't. I'd like to live out the remainder of my life, as I'm sure most of us would, and I'd like to do more research and learn all about Arabia's past, and there seems to be so much of it buried out here in the desert, but..." he paused again, slowing down his speech. "Perhaps it would be better this way. You're the one with the girl, after all. Maybe there'd even be some interesting runes on the Sands that would be best observed by climbing up them." He gave a failed attempt at a laugh at the end of his speech, and Tahir felt his heart breaking for this man, this friend with his loyalty beyond words.

"No," Tahir said, with a voice cracking with emotion. "No," he repeated, more firmly this time. "I can't ask you to do that for me. It's—it's just too much."

"You wouldn't be asking," Nadim replied.

Suddenly, he remembered these were almost the exact same words he and Xavia had exchanged, only now Nadim was in his place, and he was in Xavia's, and now he understood just how hard it must have been for her. But he wouldn't let Nadim do it. It was his place, as the leader of the Forty Thieves, and he couldn't push that off onto anyone else.

"Nadim," he said quietly, trying to think of the right words to say. "Thank you for asking, and thank you for...everything," his voice cracked again. "You've been one of the best friends a man could ask for. But I can't let you spill the Sands of Time. It's my burden to bear, and I couldn't live with myself knowing that I'd sent you instead. Do you understand?"

Nadim sighed in a rush of hot air directed towards Tahir's feet. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I understand. We'll just...have to find a way to get you up there then," he spoke this in a brighter tone with a determined optimism, then paused again. "I don't know what we'll do without you, though, Tahir. You're the best leader we ever could have had."

"You won't need me after the Sands are spilled," Tahir replied, for the first time truly considering the Thieves without him. They could just...go on with their lives when it was over, no more secret meetings in the pyramid, no more late night running from the law. They'd be like...normal people, and he'd never see any of them again.

"Maybe not as the Forty Thieves, but I think we'll need you all the same," Nadim replied. "You're more than a leader to us, Tahir. You're our friend."

"Well, it might not happen anyway from the way things are now. I can't get out of this tent, much less all the way to the Sands," Tahir said with a sigh. Nothing was working out like it should. If he lived, he stayed in this tent, losing his mind, while Xavia—and Arabia—died right in front of him. If he did spill the Sands, he died and never saw any of his friends again. It wasn't fair. At this point though, he'd felt like he'd do almost anything for the latter option.

Before either of them could say anything else, there was a loud shout from one of the guards, calling to Nadim from outside, "Time's up! Get out of there!"

"Well, it looks like I have to go," Nadim said, and Tahir heard the shuffling sound of him rising to his feet from the sand. "I'll try to think of some way to get you out of here, if I can. I don't know what I'll come up with, but...I'll try."

"That's all you can ever do," Tahir replied as he heard the tent flap get pushed out of the way, and Nadim was gone. He was left alone again.

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So, will the Sands get spilled? Or will everyone go insane? Tune in next time for 'The Sand Tsunami' or 'Lunatics in Arabia.' :D And remember to review!


	35. Chapter 35

The climax chapter has been split into two chapters, because it was extremely long, and it had a place that actually seemed like the end of a chapter anyway. The second part will be rather longer than the first, but...oh well. In any case, it should be a treat for you because you're getting two chapters at once! Or if the second is not up yet when you read this, it will be once I finish editing.

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Shahzad stood with his arms crossed, watching the men working. Occasionally, they glanced back at him with sullen, bloodshot eyes. He stared at them without moving, without blinking, and they eventually returned to their pulling. He could guess from their lagging steps and stony countenance that the effect of the Sands, plus the simple effect of working hard was...difficult for them, to say the least. But it didn't matter.

They were making progress—slow progress maybe, but progress nonetheless. They'd moved the Sands at least ten feet this morning. It had been a victory for them, grudgingly bestowed, but when that giant hourglass had finally started slipping down the gentle slope of the sand dunes, there was no better feeling.

A smile flickered across his face, then faltered slightly. There was a time when watching an object be pulled through the sand would have meant nothing to him compared to...oh, sitting on a rooftop in the city, watching the sunset with Faiza and Tahir. Now _this_ was the greatest pleasure in the world to him?

He couldn't deny it, though. When he looked at the flowing, mesmerizing Sands in their brilliant glass encasement, he felt a happiness he couldn't describe in words. They were closer to getting back to the city, closer to the time when he would rule as sultan in his throne with the Sands of Time at his side. He would never doubt himself again, and no one else would either. He would have the ultimate power, and no one could take it from him.

The way things were—before—didn't really matter. Times had changed, and he'd only...adapted to fit different circumstances. It was the only thing he _could_ do, if he wanted to survive. He raised his head slightly higher and glanced at the Royal Guard again.

They were better behaved today, as long as he was watching. He'd threatened them: whoever started the next fight would lose his food and water rations for the day and lose them for whoever got involved in the fight as well. Their rations were small enough as it was, so needless to say, no fights had been started, though occasionally—often, actually—the men had begun to speak loudly to each other and looked ready to start throwing punches, but one look in his direction silenced them.

So they kept pulling. The Sands had refused to move an inch since their glorious, though short-lived, ten-foot slide down the dunes, and things were once again at a standstill. The men would shout, "One, two, three!" and pull with all their might. And the Sands would stay as still as ever and stationary in their single spot. It was repeated over and over and over again. He was beginning to grow tired of it.

For a moment, he glanced away as they started their counting again and moved his eyes to his left, scanning the horizon. He stopped, startled by what he saw. Much closer than the horizon—indeed, no more than a hundred yards away—was a crowd of people he had never seen before in his life.

They were Arabians, he supposed, but their skin seemed darker and...tougher, from what he could see, almost like leather. They seemed to all be dressed in light, sand-colored garments that bore a scraggly, worn look about them. Actually, the people looked scraggly as a whole, with dark, tangled, and somewhat matted hair blowing slightly in the breeze. They were still too far away for him to make out many individual features, but something in their manner of standing, so silent and still and...proud, unnerved him.

He glanced quickly away from them and towards the men still working around the hourglass, apparently not noticing their strange spectators. He looked back at the crowd, still unmoving, once more before starting off at a quick, purposeful gait towards his men. As he neared them, they turned weary, questioning eyes to him, but he only scanned through them all, searching for Mahmud. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure what Mahmud could do about the situation, but he wanted to consult with someone, and Mahmud seemed like the natural choice.

He didn't have to search long. Within a few moments, Mahmud separated himself from the men he'd been directing and walked briskly to Shahzad, taking long, swift strides. "Your majesty," he began obsequiously. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Shahzad glanced past him, again turning his eyes towards the people, checking to be sure they were really there. They were, standing as still as ever, and he looked back at the captain in front of him. "Yes, well...there's a group of people over there," he indicated with a flick of his wrist, "staring at us."

The captain gave a small frown, turned to look, and turned back with an even larger, much more confused frown. "Who...?"

"I have no idea," Shahzad replied quickly, lowering his voice as he saw some of the Royal Guard watching them now. There was no reason to start a panic over this. "I was watching you work when I happened to glance over and see them. I didn't hear them come, or see where they came from, or...anything."

Mahmud glanced over his shoulder to look at them again for a longer moment, studying their appearance. "Do you have any idea of...anything about them?" he asked finally, looking Shahzad in the eye. "I mean...I didn't think anyone lived in the middle of the desert, but if they did, I suppose they _would _look like that. Or do you suppose they're from some other kingdom out here somewhere? They're certainly a rag-tag group."

Shahzad was about to give a shrug, when he heard the Royal Guard and Thieves shouting. He turned to see them pointing and yelling out many of the same questions he and Mahmud had just discussed, evidently having now noticed the silent observers.

The captain turned quickly to his men, planting his hands firmly on his hips, arms akimbo. "Men, quiet down!" he shouted over the buzz of voices that was quickly turning into a frenzy.

"But, Captain, there's people over there, and they—"

"Yes," Mahmud interrupted, voice soaring over the loud hum underneath him, and the men gradually quieted down until he was the only one speaking. "The sultan and I have seen them as well as you have, and we know nothing more than you do about them. We only await orders from the sultan." Here he looked pointedly at Shahzad, and the rest of the men did the same so that all eyes were fixated upon him, expecting him to do something, to say something that would take care of the situation.

Shahzad swallowed, feeling a sweat break out on his forehead. He balled his hands into fists, feeling a cold fear sweeping over him. He didn't know how to deal with situations like this. Actually, he didn't know how to deal with _any_ sorts of situations. He couldn't think fast enough; he couldn't speak with the same calm authority that his father had and Mahmud had, easing the fear of their men with calm, reasonable orders.

He glanced at the Sands, trying to draw the same sort of strength he'd drawn out of them yesterday. The light sparkled in them, glowing and scattering as it fell on the floating grains of sand. He felt a warmth radiating throughout him, chasing away the fear and the cold. He just needed to think, logically. They wanted answers about these people, so the logical thing to do was to ask questions.

"We'll talk to them," he said at last, not loud but with an easy simplicity, a serenity that the men leaned in to hear. "We'll walk over to them as a group and ask them plainly who they are and what they seek with us. Let's go."

There was a soft murmur of approval throughout the men, and he glanced at Mahmud one last time, before turning and starting to walk, as the rest of the men fell in behind him. A moment after he'd started forward, he heard Nadim's voice behind and to the right of him, talking in a fast, excited tone.

"And anyway, they're still too far away to tell yet, but it would be my first guess. I didn't think I'd actually get to meet them! I don't know what I'll ask first! Just think of them living out here all these years. It seems impossible, but...we found the Sands of Time, and that seemed impossible too, so I don't see why this couldn't be true."

Shahzad glanced sideways to see the man looking expectantly at Jalal next to him, waiting for a reaction that would at least come close to his own excitement. Jalal showed only a mild amusement.

A small smile flickered across Shahzad's face. "Nadim," he began, guessing that if there was any information to be had about these people, Nadim would be the one to have it. "What can you tell me about them?"

Nadim scurried forward to catch up with him and fell into pace beside him. "Well, I can't be sure, but I would guess that they got lost in the desert when the Sands of Time were lost." He looked up, and when Shahzad said nothing, he went on hurriedly.

"You see, in the ancient days, Arabia prospered out here in the middle of the desert because they had the Sands of Time to help. The people could live here easily, and the capital city was actually somewhere here in the Rub'al Khali, instead of by the coast. Everything was wonderful, until the rulers decided that with the help of the Sands, they could prosper more themselves, and it didn't really matter what happened to Arabia. That was when they started fighting over it and killing each other, and all sorts of messy business." He glanced at Shahzad here, as if he considered Shahzad to be very similar person to the rulers of the day.

Shahzad returned an annoyed glance, and Nadim started talking again.

"Then two citizens, Haytham and Arwa...stole them and hid them, or something to that effect, and everyone was thrown into mass confusion. Their water probably all dried up in a day, they couldn't withstand any sandstorms that hit them, maybe there were invaders...anyway, most people fled to the coast to rebuild, but it's only reasonable to think that some of them didn't make it. And I think that these people are probably some of them, and they've simply been living out here since that time."

Shahzad nodded slightly, looking towards the people and abruptly stopped walking. The entire crowd of them had moved forward as well, now not more than thirty yards away. He could see them more clearly now, and many of them had black, ragged welts covering their skin. They moved tiredly, shoulders slumped, with bright and feverish eyes. The plague, the were infected with the plague.

"That's odd; I wouldn't think—"

"Hush!" Shahzad cut off Nadim as the people came to a stop in front of him. He tried to give them a welcoming smile, as he knew he should, but in truth, he felt repulsed. They were dirty, and they were sick, and he had to force himself not to draw back in disgust. However, he scanned through them all, men, women, and children, searching for anyone in particular he ought to be addressing his questions to. They all looked mostly the same, clothed in the same sandy robes, watching him with the same curious expressions.

Finally, his gaze settled on the man and woman closest to the front of the group. They were obviously the oldest individuals present, with deeply wrinkled skin and long years that seemed to stare back at him from within dark eyes. The woman appeared entirely covered in dark, torn welts, and was supported weakly on the arm of a younger, uninfected woman. The old man on her other side looked slightly stronger, with the welts only halfway up his arms and beginning to form lightly on his neck. They both watched him expectantly.

"Hello," he started at last, forcing his mouth to form something like a smile and giving a slight nod. "I am Shahzad, the sultan of Arabia. This is my Royal Guard," he indicated the men behind him and looked back at the people in front of him, waiting for them to introduce themselves.

He received only blank, silent stares. He waited. Perhaps they were just shy, only they didn't even show any acknowledgement of what he'd said; they just...watched him. After a long, awkward moment, he decided to try again. "We...we saw you all watching us, and we thought we would come over to...talk."

But they didn't seem very interested in talking. They stared with their dark, looming eyes, and he swallowed uncomfortably. Well, if they didn't want to bother with introductions, he'd jump straight to the point. "Who are you?" he finally asked pointedly, dropping his tone of polite welcome and looking the elderly man in front of him straight in the eyes.

There was a long pause again, and he was beginning to wonder if they were all mutes when finally the man spoke. His voice was soft, but deep and resonant, as if it had once been much stronger than it was now. However, it wasn't his tone that surprised Shahzad. It was what he said; Shahzad had no idea what it was. It sounded like almost complete gibberish, though when he listened closely it seemed familiar, like something he almost recognized but just...didn't.

"What?" he asked somewhat belatedly, turning blankly to look at Nadim beside him, who was frowning intently at the man.

At his voice, Nadim turned towards him. "Oh, that's the other thing I didn't mention," he said lightly. "It's only natural that they wouldn't speak like us. I'm sure they're still speaking the ancient tongue, if they haven't developed their own dialect entirely. It's quite interesting, the difference in linguistics between our own language we speak today and the one we used to—"

"Well, can you understand them?" Shahzad interrupted impatiently. He didn't care about linguistics; he just wanted to know who these people were and what it was they wanted!

"Well, I—I think so," Nadim began uncertainly.

"You _think_ so?" Shahzad practically roared at him. This was Nadim's area of expertise, this was what he did with his life, and he only _thought_ he could understand them? They needed certainty, not guesses!

"Well, it's difficult to say. I've never heard the ancient language spoken out loud before. I can recognize it on paper, but recognizing it on paper and recognizing it from hearing it are two very different things. I have to think." He looked at the ground, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Well, think fast," Shahzad said, glancing back at the people, where the man was speaking again, or perhaps repeating what he'd already said. He looked at the man, then back at Nadim, hoping Nadim would figure it out soon.

Nadim raised his head suddenly, bringing up one pointed finger. "I've got it!" He paused then, lowering his brows. "Or at least, I think I've got it," he amended, then slowly began to hesitantly speak something Shahzad couldn't understand.

When he fell silent again, the people stared with the same blank look they'd given Shahzad, though this time they talked more amongst themselves, turning to those around them and whispering.

"No?" Nadim asked after observing them for a minute. "Hmm." He crossed his arms over his chest and brought one hand up to his chin, rubbing it across his stubble. Then he looked up and said something that sounded similar to what he'd first said, but this time less smoothly, with sharper consonants and a great deal less vowels, making a harsher, guttural sound.

This time the response was immediate. The old man replied with more of the strange, throaty sounds, and Nadim replied to him, and within moments they were speaking rapidly to one another. Shahzad looked between them, at Nadim with his wild gesticulations and occasional lengthy pauses as he tried to think of a word, and the man, straight and tall with his plain but powerful way of speaking.

Shahzad himself suddenly felt distinctly left out of the conversation. He looked backward at the Royal Guard and the rest of the Thieves and was thankful that they bore the same confused expressions. He moved towards them to seem less conspicuous and wished Nadim would hurry up and tell him what they were saying.

Finally, there was a lull in the conversation and Nadim turned around to face him with a wide grin, and Shahzad prepared himself to hear the entire history of the people.

"Well, it's like I thought," Nadim began. "When the Sands of Time were lost, their ancestors were going to travel to the coast. They were on their way when they got separated from the rest of their group by a sandstorm, but the...desert provided for them. I'm not entirely sure what they meant by that, but I've gathered that they've always had a well, or several wells that they moved to one after another...they had some odd word for water, which led me to believe that the wells weren't entirely natural, probably powered by the same magic of the Sands and...whatever possessed our horses when they came bounding through the wall. It's quite a strange phenomenon, really. This part of the desert...it's wild in a way we can't even begin to understand..." he trailed off and stared far out at the horizon for a long moment.

Shahzad stared back at him blankly, impatient for him to go on, but...he did know what the man meant. He could remember the way his father had loved the desert, and well...he loved it, too. It was wild and untamed, but it was always the same, too. It was full of strange...mystical magic, but it was always there and always golden and always beautiful. It was his home.

Finally Nadim snapped back to attention. "Anyway, not too long ago, their last well dried up, and they seem to just _know_ somehow that they won't find another one anywhere...but shortly after the well dried up, they met two travelers: an Arabian man, blind and blue-eyed, but otherwise like the rest of us, and a young woman with pale skin and hair 'like the sand at sunset,' I believe they said."

Shahzad's eyebrows shot up at this bit of news. "Tahir and Xavia?" he asked incredulously. They'd met these...desert people? When, and why hadn't they ever mentioned it?

"Yes..." Nadim began uncomfortably, "I actually already knew that they had met people of a similar description, though I wasn't entirely sure if these were them until now..."

Shahzad felt a sudden pang of jealousy and...loneliness gnawing at his stomach. They had told Nadim, but not him. Of course, he knew why. He'd hurt them in innumerable ways. They had no reason to confide in him about anything, but still, it hurt. But Nadim was going on now, and he was forced away from his emotions.

"Anyway, apparently they could sense that Tahir and Xavia were Destined, and they sort of...related them to Haytham and Arwa, who were also Destined, and wanted them to bring the Sands back to protect them and make their lives much easier. However, Tahir and Xavia refused and left, and shortly afterward, they developed this disease they'd never seen before."

"The plague," Shahzad said, glancing at the marks on their dark skin and grimacing. Why did the plague have to be everywhere? It had stolen Faiza and his father, and...he hated it, so, so much. He remembered then, Tahir pleading with him to spill the Sands and cure the plague, but he...he couldn't do that! He wouldn't do it, and he didn't care what they said! It was his choice, and he wanted—he _needed_ the Sands himself.

"Yes, they picked up the contagion from Xavia, I'm sure," Nadim replied. "They'd never been exposed to anything like it before, so it hit them hard. Several have died already, and...it looks like at least of half of them are sick now...but that was when they realized that the Sands could heal them if they were spilled, so they set out to find them themselves, and...that's what they've done." He raised his hand in a slight shrug and let it fall back to his side. Then he paused and looked at Shahzad, shifting on his feet.

Shahzad could easily guess he had something more to say, something he didn't want to say to him. "And...?" he prompted.

Nadim quit rocking back and forth and finally forced himself to stand straight and tall, meeting Shahzad's eyes strongly. "They want you to spill the Sands, Shahzad."

Shahzad looked at him for a moment, then turned to look at the people, at the frail, old man and woman, at the wide-eyed children, and the weak, drooping way they all stood, watching him for an answer. And suddenly, he hated them. He hated them for being weak, and he hated them for being sick, because...because everyone around him was sick and weak, and they were all dying, and he _hated_ it! His father had been old and weak before he died, and Faiza was so sick, and—

It wasn't his fault. He had nothing to do with them getting sick, so why he should he have to deal with it? He shouldn't have to, and he wasn't going to. He turned deliberately away from them, hating the hopeful way they were looking at him, hating their black welts and tired eyes and weakness. He never wanted to see a weak person again, and he hated them completely, with every shred of his being.

"You know I won't do that," he said simply to Nadim, then watched as the man turned and relayed the message to the people. He could almost feel their eyes turn on him, asking why, pleading, perhaps hating him in return. Well, he didn't care. Let them hate him. They couldn't touch him in the end.

The old man said something in reply, and Nadim turned sharply with a startled look towards Shahzad, looking at him with something like alarm. Shahzad frowned in puzzlement back at him, and he quickly turned away apologetically. The man went on speaking, and after another short, furtive glance, Nadim replied, speaking slowly and hesitantly at first but quickly getting faster. Within moments, the two were flying back and forth again, and Shahzad started paying more attention, feeling like something was odd about the conversation. They shouldn't have had that much to say to each other, when the main question had already been answered and denied. Perhaps Nadim was rambling again, but with the way he was starting to sweat, something seemed wrong.

"Nadim, what are you saying to them?" he asked quickly, but he received no reply, and the two simply went on speaking.

Shahzad turned to look at the old man, who seemed to be appraising him with cool, defiant eyes. Nadim had stopped speaking, and the man, while still watching Shahzad, made a short reply, another phrase Shahzad couldn't understand, but there was no mistaking his tone: bold and mutinous.

All at once, the entire crowd parted down the middle: the elderly, the women, and the children all stepping to either side. That left only the younger, strongest men in their prime in the middle, and they quickly threw off their long, robes, leaving only what clothing was necessary, exposing tanned, if slightly infected skin, and firm, strong muscles. From sheaths at their sides, they pulled out long metal sabers.

Shahzad stepped back in surprise, alarmed, but unfazed. Did they really mean to fight him for the Sands? They'd never win! They might have had a few good, strong men, but at least half of them were infected, they were probably all dehydrated, and the Royal Guard far outnumbered them anyhow. Let them fight, if they wanted to die!

Then he noticed the rumbling. The ground beneath his feet was shaking in steady tremors, and there was a deep, thundering noise, similar to when the Sands came up, or...when the horses came. Yes, the rhythmic pounding into the ground had to be horses. He was sure of it.

He looked at the old man again, and the man raised his eyebrows, taking a long, sweeping glance all the way around them. Shahzad followed the man's eyes, and saw strong black horses—complete with armed riders—storming down towards them, from every direction except for the wall. The warriors in front of them and the stepping to either side must have been for signaling purposes, and the people had many more fighters than that. He and his men were surrounded.

He turned towards Nadim, realizing that this was what they'd been discussing, that Nadim had allowed it to happen, agreed to it, probably told the desert people anything he thought could be helpful for strategy against him. They both wanted the Sands spilled, and that made them allies. So Nadim had plotted against him, right in front of his face. He glanced towards the man, but he only shrugged uncomfortably, not apologetically. He was a traitor, as bad as Tahir and Xavia.

But it didn't matter. He still had better quality men, even without horses for them. The desert men riding towards them weren't healthy or fit to fight, even if they did have horses. They might have had an advantage or two he and his men were missing, but it wasn't enough. He could—and _would_ cut them down until they regretted even considering to fight him.

He turned around to face his own men, comprehension just now dawning on their faces. They were slightly nervous maybe, but they looked to him as their leader, waiting for his orders. He smiled, placing his hand at the hilt of the saber at his waist. He drew it slowly, listening to the sound of the ringing metal and began to shout above it, "Men, draw your weapons! We fight for the Sands!" He thrust his saber into the air, holding it high above his head, and heard the echo of all of his men's sabers being torn from their sheaths, ready to fight.

He glanced over his shoulder caught the eyes of the old man with a malicious smile. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he'd get.


	36. Chapter 36

Note: I posted this chapter and chapter 35 on the same day, so if you didn't realize that, be sure to read 35 before you read this one! :D

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Tahir gripped Xavia's hand, squeezing it so hard it was a wonder he didn't break it. He felt his own hand warm against hers as his pulse raced and sweat broke out on his forehead and neck. He listened, straining his ears to hear her breathing, just one inhale of air, but there was nothing. Only silence, deafening, closing in around him.

"Xavia," he whispered raggedly, "Xavia, please!" His voice broke into a near sob as there was no reply. He couldn't see her, no matter how hard he squeezed her hand or how many times hespoke her name, and he couldn't hear her, and she was dead. _Dead._ The word echoed through his brain, over and over and over again.

She was dead, and it was all his fault, and if he'd tried harder he could have saved her; he _should_ have saved her, but he didn't, and he—he—his chest was tight, racked with sobs, and he couldn't breathe, and he wondered if he was dying, too. After all, they _were_ fate bound, and wasn't that what was supposed to happen? Only he knew it didn't happen that fast, but he wondered if he really knew anything that all, except that she'd—she'd said his name, and she'd shifted slightly, and then—and then there was nothing, nothing at all, and he knew it was all over, and his head was screaming that it was all his fault.

He'd never even said goodbye. He hadn't said anything at all. He'd just moved over to her and taken her hand in a futile effort to see her, and then he'd noticed it wasn't working, and he could only hear himself, and she was _gone_. And nothing he could do would bring her back. Another sob ripped through his chest, and he squeezed her hand even tighter.

There was another sound then, a reverberating, thunderous noise, sounding like it was rippling across the ground from the direction of the Sands. He wondered vaguely what it was, but nothing very reasonable came to mind. Perhaps they'd tipped over the hourglass and it was rolling towards him now, about to crush him beneath its weight. Well, let it come; he'd welcome death! Nothing in his life mattered enough to keep him here now!

Suddenly he sat up straighter, raising his head slightly. He needed to pull himself together, he thought shakily. Things still mattered. A lot of things still mattered. That was what Shahzad had failed to realize when Faiza died. He gave up on the world when she was gone, and Tahir wasn't going to make the same mistake. Besides, he didn't even know if she was really dead. People could go without air for...a few minutes. And even if she was dead...he would still need to find any way possible to spill the Sands of Time. It was what she would have wanted and more than that, it was...the right thing to do.

But what in the world was that noise? The rumbling was growing louder by the minute, and he heard the guards outside shouting to each other, though he couldn't make out the words. Then he heard their footsteps, fast, running from the tent and towards the wall and the Sands beyond.

He waited for a moment, listening, making sure they were really gone, then let go of Xavia's hand and darted out of the tent. It was bold of him, too bold under normal circumstances, but these were not normal circumstances. If there was something going on that took the guards away from him, it might give him the chance to spill the Sands of Time. And heaven knew, if he was ever going to spill the Sands, now would be the time!

He still had no way of knowing what was going on, though. He knew no one else was around, because no one had ordered him back into the tent, but that was only a small piece of knowledge. The ground was being pounded into, over and over, like...like horses, galloping. But why would the horses be back? And there was shouting in the direction of the men working, frenzied shouting and the sound of...metal, striking against metal. It sounded like a battle, but who would be fighting? Had the Sands driven the men so mad that they'd turned upon themselves?

Then he noticed more of the pounding, not so thunderous, but much closer. A single clip-clop of flying hooves on the ground, coming straight at him. He felt some fear then, as he realized he was unarmed, and he had no idea who was coming at him. Suppose they'd been attacked by some other army from somewhere, and one of their warriors was coming to kill him? What would he do? Die mostly likely, without ever even grasping what the real situation was.

He had trouble feeling any emotion at the idea. He felt calm when he thought of dying—too calm. He knew he should care still, but he only felt...numb. He waited, listened to the drumming hooves and stood as still as a statue.

"Tahir!" he suddenly heard his own name shouted to him, as the horse came nearer and stopped abruptly, sliding a short way in the sand even after it stopped running.

"Nadim?" he asked with puzzlement. What was Nadim doing here? And where did he get a horse?

"Tahir," his friend repeated his name raggedly as he slid off the horse's back and landed in the sand with a thud, breathing heavily. "The Sands...you have to spill them...the nomads...with horses."

"What?" Tahir asked without comprehension. The man's words were broken apart by sharp intakes of air until they were a confusing befuddlement of phrases. He could gather only that...there were nomads, with horses, and...that somehow meant that he needed to spill the Sands immediately? It didn't make much sense. He waited patiently for Nadim to get his breath back and explain more fully.

A few moments passed, and finally the man went on. "The nomads you met in the desert came. They have the plague now, and their priorities have changed. They no longer want the Sands back; they want the Sands spilled. Shahzad refused them, of course, but since I was the only one who could speak to them or understand what they said, we talked a bit more than we were supposed to...they wanted to fight Shahzad for the Sands, I explained the entire situation with you and the key and dying, and they agreed to use their warriors as a distraction for you to get to the Sands. With all the mess over there, you should be able to make it, but you'll have to go quickly."

Tahir was still processing the information when he felt his arm grabbed, and he was pulled over to the horse, so close he could feel its warmth radiating out towards him. The Sand people were here, with warriors. They were fighting. It was a distraction. He finally had the chance to spill the Sands of Time, like he'd always wanted. He could have easily put his hand on the horse's back beside him, pulled himself up, and started off at a gallop, but he didn't. He just stood there, frozen. He realized suddenly and vaguely that his hands were shaking, and he couldn't move, and—he knew she was gone, and he was too late, and he'd failed.

"Tahir, by the desert, you have to move! Don't you understand? You have to go, now!" Nadim shouted at him, close to his face, blaring in his ear.

Tahir swallowed. He knew he should have gone. He knew he should have been glad to go, been happy to spill the Sands to heal all those people with the plague, to save his country. If Arabia lived, nothing else mattered, and he'd gladly give his life for it. That was what he'd always thought, always said, but now, without Xavia...it lacked the glory it had before.

"Tahir!" Nadim shouted again, then grew quiet suddenly, as Tahir felt the man's breath on his face, perhaps having noticed his expression, which he knew must have looked stricken and lost. "Or...do you not want to go?" Nadim asked awkwardly now. "I mean, I thought you did, which is why I told them, but it is a...bit sacrifice when you get right down to it, and I'm sure no one would blame you if you just...didn't do it. No one wants to die. It's perfectly—"

"It's not that," Tahir broke in at last, unable to stand any more bumbling but kind words spoken to him without an understanding of the real problem. "It's...it's Xavia."

"Xavia?" Nadim sounded confused, and Tahir could tell from the sound of his breath that he turned his head towards the tent.

"She's dead," he managed to choke. It seemed suddenly more terrible in that moment, more real, and more painful. She was dead. It wasn't just that nightmare in the tent anymore, something that could have been from another life, from a dream. It was the cold, hard truth. And it was breaking his heart.

"Dead?" Nadim repeated the word in a question, slowly, dully. Then, after a long pause, "Can I see her?"

Tahir waved his wrist toward the tent without a thought. He'd never denied Nadim an audience with Xavia in life. Why should it matter now? She was gone, and as much Nadim's as she was anyone's. He heard Nadim's footsteps and the sound of the tent flap being pushed open, and he stood dazedly where he was, wondering where everything had gone wrong and how he could have stopped it. But the thing was, she could have gotten the plague anywhere, and he couldn't have stopped it, except if...if she'd never come to Arabia. Maybe...if he'd never kissed her in the rain that day...just maybe, she never would have died.

"Tahir, she's breathing."

His thoughts suddenly halted completely, feeling nothing but shock and disbelief. He made a muffled, "What?" and walked over to the tent slowly, arms shaking. He listened. There was his own breath, becoming faster and faster, there was Nadim's, slowing as his worry departed, and there...yes, there was the sound of Xavia's breathing, shallow and unsteady but there all the same. She was alive. Xavia was alive. He didn't know why, or how, and he could scarcely breathe, but...she was alive. He turned away from the tent, unable to hold in his feelings, and breathed a choking, "Thank you," to anyone who might've been around to hear him, coupled with a hiccoughing sob.

He turned back towards Nadim and started explaining in slow, halting sentences. "She...I heard her stop breathing. She said my name, and she moved, and...she stopped breathing. I held her hand and pleaded with her, but...she wouldn't wake up. No matter what I did, she...wouldn't wake up. Then I heard all the noise and the guards left, so I came out here."

"She must have started breathing again once you stepped outside," Nadim said quietly, his voice a gentle hum amidst the shouting they still heard from farther away, surrounding the hourglass. There was a pause, and Tahir only focused on breathing, slowly, in and out, in and out. Then Nadim spoke again. "Tahir, I know it must have been traumatic for you, but...she is fine now. And you could still save her from...dying later.."

Tahir straightened, knowing what Nadim was hinting at. The Sands were waiting for him to spill them. It wasn't even a choice this time. He knew what he had to do, and he would do it without hesitating. He nodded firmly but stayed next to the tent, pausing. "Do you think it would take too much time if I...?"

"Be my guest," Nadim replied, stepping out of the tent and past him.

Tahir waited a moment, then ducked into the tent and knelt beside Xavia, finding her hand by instinct and running his fingers gently across her palm. He was going to say goodbye this time. "Xavia," he breathed. There was silence. He knew she wouldn't wake up, and he wouldn't even see her again before he died, but knowing she was beside him—living—and hearing the sound of her breath was enough.

"Xavia, I'm leaving, and you won't ever see me or feel me with our strange connections, or anything," he laughed slightly, remembering her resistance back at the pyramid, how she'd always shrank back from touching him. Then he suddenly sobered. "I'm leaving, and I'm going to die, but I want you to know that this...that knowing you and every moment I spent with you...I wouldn't give any of it back if I could live a hundred more years for it. This...no, _you_ were enough for me." He waited for a moment, then raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it lightly, letting his lips linger on her fingers.

Then he stood up and marched out of the tent, walking straight towards the sound of the horse's loud, snorting breath. He ran his hand down the horse's neck, then jumped up and pulled himself onto it's unsaddled bare back, gripping its mane in his hands.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Nadim asked, walking briskly to him from where he'd been waiting.

"Yes, positively," Tahir replied, for once more sure than he'd ever been in his life. When he'd started running at the Sands when they'd first found it, he wasn't sure. He hadn't really wanted to. But now, after coming so close to losing the one person he really wanted to save, he was sure.

"Well...I suppose this is it then," Nadim said slowly, his awkward goodbye. "I...I want to thank you, Tahir, for...everything. You...I...I just...thank you."

Tahir gave a bittersweet smile, realizing for the second time what a friend he had in Nadim, something he couldn't possibly deserve and something he would be forever thankful for. "No, Nadim. Thank you. I couldn't have done any of this without you. You're...you're a good man, Nadim. The very best." Nadim said nothing, and Tahir waited, with one more request. "Nadim, will you...look after Xavia for me, please?"

"Yes," the man replied simply. "Yes."

"Thank you," Tahir said again, wishing for some more profound words, but...there was nothing more to say. He was thankful, and he knew he could never pay back half of what Nadim had done for him over the time they'd known each other. "Well, I should be going." With that, he lightly kicked his heels into the horse's middle, and he lurched forward on the its back as it began to run.

Within moments, he was far from Nadim and Xavia and the tent that had been his prison these few days. He felt the air racing past him as he flew through dunes he couldn't see, listening to the cadenced throbbing of every beat of his horse hitting the ground and the sound of the approaching battle. Voices were growing louder and more distinct; striking sabers met with a clash and slid apart with a piercing whine.

Soon, he heard all the sounds right next to him, a loud and confusing mess completely surrounding him. The fighting was in front of him, to both sides, and behind. A few times he felt the horse trample over something, but he didn't stop to make sense of what it was. He heard his name called out, heard shouting and threats from the Royal Guard and cheers from the Thieves, but he didn't listen to any of it. He just kept riding, one purpose in mind.

He was saving Xavia. He was saving all of Arabia, but for him, it was exemplified in her. She was everything, and there was no cost too high to pay for letting her live, even his own life. He loved her. He loved her so much that...this just didn't matter. He was dying, but she was living, and...he felt like somehow, he was living too, through her, so he kept going.

He knew where the Sands were, knew precisely where to find them. He leaned over the horse's neck, whispering quiet commands into its ear, keeping it on course. He could say that he saw the Sands again, but truthfully, it was almost...more than that. He could feel them, coursing through his veins, and he could hear them, like a rippling pattern of music echoing in his mind, and he could taste them at the tip of his tongue, and they were golden...and he saw gold and felt gold and heard gold and tasted it and smelled it, a golden aura of light and warmth and beauty all around him, guiding him, pushing him forward. And he was high-spirited, even though he knew he was riding to his death, because this was what he was born for.

Then he fell off the horse. He could hear fighting next to him, heard the thud of a man hitting the ground and tried to steer away from the skirmish, but before he was far enough, the horse stumbled and fell. He heard the sound of a saber slicing through the air before it happened, and knew the horse had been cut down. Its legs faltered, tripping over itself and it fell abruptly to the ground.

Tahir hit the ground hard on his left side, smacking his shoulder and his head and side against the ground as he rolled through the loose sand. He got up quickly, however, even as his body throbbed in pain. He heard the sound again, of the saber whirring through the air, and then the blade was cold against his throat. He felt the metal move as he swallowed, remembering acutely how weaponless he was.

"You won't make it, you scoundrel," came the voice of the man with the saber, demeaning and haughty. "I know you want to spill the Sands of Time like you tried to do before, but I've caught you, and you won't get away."

Tahir weighed his options in mind, considering the years of training he'd had in all sorts of fighting tactics. He didn't have anything to fight with. That wasn't a good thing, but it could be used to his advantage. The man who'd caught him was underestimating him; that much was obvious. He ought to have killed him immediately, or called more men over to help constrain him, but all he did was hold the saber against one side of his throat and wait.

Thinking quickly, Tahir held his palms out in mock surrender, then as he felt the blade move from his neck, he spun the other way until he'd pushed himself against the other man, his back against the man's chest. The man grunted in anger and surprise, but Tahir thrust both of his hands up, grabbing the man's arms. He struggled, trying to hold the man's left arm still as his hand slid down the man's right arm until he reached the man's hand and the hard hilt of the saber. He gripped that with all the strength he could muster, let go of the man's left arm and spun away again, wrenching the weapon away with him. As soon as the man had let go of it, he brought it slashing lightly across him. He didn't have time to figure out precisely where to stab him, but he made sure not to go too deep—he only wanted to injure, not kill.

He heard the man fall with a groan to the ground, and he turned towards the Sands again, guided by their light and warmth, their mark on his heart. He was doing what he'd been born to do. They were less than fifty yards away now, an easy running distance. It would be even easier with a horse, but he would do fine as it was, and he had a weapon now if he came across anyone else.

Holding the saber somewhat awkwardly out beside him, he started running, taking giant leaps through the sand. He was reminded oddly of the first time he'd tried this, and he was sped on by the memory of how that attempt had ended. But this time would be different. This time he was ready.

No one was pursuing him. He heard no footsteps racing behind him, no sand kicking up about his heels. He was running like the wind, and he felt exhilarated by it, by the heat and the sweat and the sand, by all of his senses alive and vivid like never before, by...everything. This was his life, and it was a life that had been worth living.

Thirty yards, twenty-five, twenty—he was getting closer. At five yards he stopped. He threw the saber on the ground beside him and glanced up. The Sands had cleared into a vivid, detail picture in front of him now, and he could see clearly the climb he would have to make up the sharp sapphire stones to reach the keyhole. It wasn't a long climb really—a ways, but not too far. The stones were placed evenly to make the reaching easy.

He was about to take a step forward, when he felt the sharp point of a saber jabbed against his back. "You didn't really think you could do it without getting through me first, did you?" came the snide voice with its haughty malice.

"Shahzad," Tahir said slowly, not yet turning around, staying as still as he possibly could. He wasn't surprised. He'd been in a near rush of joy so far in trying to get to the Sands, but now, if he thought about it, he couldn't picture himself spilling the Sands without meeting Shahzad first. He only hoped the man would let him go without making things difficult.

"Pick up your saber," Shahzad ordered, as Tahir felt the point move away from his back.

Tahir turned around slowly, dragging his feet, holding his palms up. "I don't want to fight you, Shahzad," he replied honestly. It was the truth, in its simplest form. He didn't want to fight Shahzad; more than anything, he wanted to...say goodbye to the friend he'd spent so many years with, talked with about life, love...everything. He didn't want to spend his last moments fighting that friend, but...so much had changed now.

"Well, that's too bad," Shahzad's reply was almost vicious in its heavy malice and choking cynicism. There were a few more swings of the saber though the air, whooshing back and forth, right and left, up and down. When Tahir didn't move, it grew faster, angrier, frenzied. "Pick up your saber!" Shahzad repeated himself at last, now in a loud bluster of indignation.

With a sigh, Tahir took a step took a step towards where he'd dropped the weapon. His hand searched through the soft sand before finding the hard hilt, picking it up and swinging a few times to get his grip right. He could feel Shahzad's breath directed toward him the entire time as the man watched him with a frightening satisfaction, knowing he would have an equal opponent. When Tahir felt comfortable at last, he held the saber straight in front of him, and turned toward the man.

"I suppose it's about time it came to this." Shahzad's voice was far away, cold and cruel.

"I don't know what you mean," Tahir said flatly.

Shahzad gave a snort. "I think you do. We've spent all this time disagreeing about the Sands, having minor skirmishes over them, but this is the real thing now. This time we fight, to the death."

Tahir steeled himself against those words. To the death? No, he would not kill the man who'd been his best friend! He'd spent too much time with him, had too many conversations, too many laughs, knew him too well. He knew he couldn't do it even if he wanted to. "Shahzad, I don't want to kill you," he argued futilely.

"Then let yourself be killed," Shahzad replied in a low voice no louder than a whisper. Tahir noticed his voice almost sounded like it was...shaking, and he wondered why—but then he was lunged at, heard the sound of Shahzad's feet smacking the ground as he leapt for him, and the saber swung viciously towards him.

He jumped to his right in barely enough time, receiving a glancing cut down his left arm. It stung, and he felt warm blood trickling down his skin. He grimaced, but had no time to pay the injury any further notice, as Shahzad was coming at him again. This time he raised his own saber to block the attack and thrust the blade backward at Shahzad.

Again, not a moment after, he heard the swing of the saber toward him and blocked it again. This time, Shahzad stepped, coming at him from a different angle. He stepped in turn, listening closely in order to be in just the right position to ward off the attack. Time and again, Shahzad flew at him with an energy to his violent attacks that Tahir didn't share. He only blocked the saber, or took a step away from it. He was losing ground, but he didn't want to go on the attack. He didn't want to fight his friend, and he was determined not to.

Then Shahzad used a more complicated tactic. He leapt and landed with a thud on Tahir's right side. Instinctively, Tahir took a step to his left, avoiding the expected blow. He heard the swing of the metal blade in the air, but it was coming from the wrong direction—the left, right where he'd moved to. He noticed Shahzad's breathing was a different direction now—he'd turned when he leapt and was swinging the opposite way. The saber was coming too fast; he tried to move, but lost his footing in the loose sand and stumbled. He fell to his knees on the ground and slid onto his side, the sand burning as it scratched against his skin.

Hurriedly, he used one elbow to push himself up, knowing that Shahzad was likely to move quicker—feeling the cold metal point on his throat. Shahzad had won. But the man's voice said differently. "Get off the ground, and fight like I know you can. No more blocking and stepping. I've seen you fight and fought with you enough times to know you can do better than that."

Tahir swallowed against the metal, trying to think. He didn't want to fight! He wanted to make things up, but he didn't know how—he didn't know how he could possibly turn his friend around now. "Shahzad, please," he pleaded. "You don't have to do this. We don't have to fight! We've been friends; don't you remember? We used to spend our days in the marketplace together, talking, laughing...or are all those years for nothing now?"

"Get up and fight or I'll kill you now," Shahzad's voice was icy, with a cold calmness masking the underlying rage. Tahir knew there was nothing he could say that would speak to the silent rage.

With a sigh, he gripped the saber beside him and pushed himself onto his feet. He knew what he had to do. He didn't want to fight Shahzad, but he knew if he didn't, he'd never spill the Sands, and he _needed_ to spill the Sands. He could feel them all around him again, pulsing in his brain, heightening his senses. Shahzad was standing in front of him, five paces. He lunged with a sudden fire in his blood.

Shahzad blocked his first blow, as Tahir had expected he would, but Tahir forced his blade down over Shahzad's and swept past him, turning around quickly to attack from behind. His saber met a shoulder and cut briefly before it was beat off with a hard smack. The metal clanged and his blade bounced backward, forcing his footing off balance, stumbling briefly to the left.

He was regaining his stance when he heard Shahzad swinging at him from the right. He turned and blocked, but Shahzad's saber came down on top and quickly plunged forward again. This time he spun around the man to avoid the blade and brought his own swinging for Shahzad's far side. He made contact, but only briefly, a glancing hit as Shahzad moved out of the way.

He felt the man's breath on his face and knew they were both facing each other again, both beginning to breathe heavily. He felt sweat dripping down his brow and lifted his left hand to brush it away, while keeping his right hand holding the saber ready for an attack. Still, the man in front of him hesitated. He decided to try talking to him again.

"Shahzad...I want to tell you that I'm sorry," he said, pleading for an end to this fight.

"Sorry for what?" Shahzad spat back at him.

"Sorry for...anything I might've done that hurt you," Tahir replied. He replayed Faiza's death in his mind, and the way Shahzad had screamed and fought, and the silence following. They didn't talk about it. They didn't hardly even see each other. He should have been there. And he remembered taking Xavia from palace, when Shahzad didn't want him to, when Xavia was the only friend Shahzad could seem to talk to. "I tried to make decisions to the best of my ability, but...I realize now that some of them might have been wrong, and...I'm sorry. I just wish we could have talked more about it."

"I don't care," Shahzad said tonelessly. He lunged forward, saber swinging in the air.

Tahir was expecting it and easily blocked the attack, then switched his weight on his feet and plunged forward with a counterattack of his own. Shahzad blocked it, as Tahir knew he would. For a moment, they stood still again. "I'm sorry about Faiza, Shahzad. I don't think I ever said anything, and I wish I would have. I couldn't bring her back for you, and I couldn't save her while she was still alive, but...I know I could have been there more for you. I just...I missed her, too, you know?" his voice was beginning to shake in memory of the black-haired girl he'd spent so much time with, loved as a friend, watched his best friend love as more. He missed her. He missed them all, together.

"If you're trying to break me down with words, it's not going to work. I've had enough of that."

"I know, and I'm sorry for that, too," Tahir replied quickly, trying to make sure the man didn't get the wrong idea. He didn't want to manipulate Shahzad's emotions or confuse him with words, he just...he wanted to talk to his friend, one last time. "I know I've tried to manipulate you in the past, but this time...I just want you to know."

There was a pause, and the only sound was their breathing. His was fast, desperation beginning to take a toll on him. He wanted his friend back, just for one moment, before...it was all over. He was going to die, one way or another, and he wanted a moment with Shahzad, the way they'd been before. Shahzad's own breathing was steady—almost too steady. It was beginning to sound fake and controlled. He realized then, that there were none of the other sounds of fighting around them. There might have been a few horses prancing on the ground, but there were no more shouts or swinging sabers. Everything was still except for the breathing, and there was a lot of breathing, all directed towards them. "Are they...all watching us?" he asked Shahzad awkwardly, sensing how odd of a question it was.

There was a pause, and he heard Shahzad's breath move as the man's head turned to glance around. "Yes," he replied at last. "Apparently we're the deciding factor in the battle," he said with a cynical humor. "Well, let's finish this." Tahir heard his saber move, raised to a more ready height in front of him.

"Wait," Tahir cut in, raising his left hand. "I have a question for you. I just...want to know this one thing."

Shahzad waited, without speaking. They seemed to have reached some sort of understanding with each other. They could have this conversation, and then they would fight, and it would be over. There was no reason to jump into the middle of the fight.

Tahir drew a breath. He needed to know this one thing. Or...maybe he did know it, but he wanted to hear from Shahzad himself. He wanted a reason for this madness. He wanted a spot in time that he could trace this all to, pinpoint the answer to how everything between them had all gone so wrong. "Why?" he asked simply.

"Why what?" Shahzad questioned quizzically, sounding confused.

Tahir took another breath in, thinking. He wasn't sure how to phrase the question. Maybe he wasn't even sure what he was asking. He just...wanted to know what had gone wrong, and he wanted to know from Shahzad's point of view, why the man had turned against all of his friends. "Why...why did you do this? I know things weren't the best between us, but...we could have worked things out. You didn't have to turn against the Thieves. You were my best friend, Shahzad. Why did you change your mind about...everything?"

There was a long pause, and Tahir began to wonder if the man would answer. It was a difficult question to give an honest answer to; he knew that, and he certainly wouldn't have been surprised if Shahzad chose to ignore him entirely. However, he heard the man take a breath in front of him, and his breath seemed to tremble with the effort.

"Because..." he began, "because I could. And it seemed like the only thing I could do, that would actually be...me, doing it. I was so sick of always being..." he trailed off, then coughed abruptly. "I'm not like you, Tahir, and I couldn't be if I tried. I...to be honest, and I don't see why not to be honest now...I can't say it wasn't a decision made out of...passionate rage, but...it doesn't matter anymore. I can't go back, and even if I could...I can't say I would do it any differently. When Faiza died...everything changed for me. Everything we'd dreamt about just...didn't matter anymore. Maybe she was the only thing that kept us together in the first place."

"I don't think so," Tahir replied quietly. Maybe Faiza had kept all of Shahzad's insecurities in check, but she wasn't the only thing that kept them together. He knew that, and his heart was breaking right now, because...he didn't know what to do. Shahzad sounded so empty, so apathetic, he just...he couldn't really be like that! There had to be some part of him, even if it was just a tiny part, that still...cared about everything they'd cared about before! The man he'd known before—there had to still be some shred of him in there somewhere. He'd seen it before, lots of time! They—they'd spent too many years together, as the very best of friends, for it to end up like this.

"Shahzad!" he almost shouted now, pleading. "Please, I know...I know it's been hard for you, and I know neither of us has been what we should have, but...can't we try to turn things around? I know we could! I know...you're not...like this, Shahzad, you're not cruel and cold, and...I don't want to end things like this."

"No," Shahzad's voice was deathly quiet. "No. You couldn't understand, Tahir. I don't _want_ to turn things around. I might have earlier, but...now all I want are the Sands of Time, and by the desert, Tahir, I'll have them if it kills me!" He ended shouting and lunged forward quickly, stabbing out his saber in front of him.

Tahir jumped to the side just in time to hear the blade pierce the air right through where been standing not a half-second ago. He heard Shahzad moving, turning toward him and pushing his blade out again, with a sharp brutality. Tahir blocked, and Shahzad came again and again, and Tahir knew he'd have to fight back—hard—if he was going to survive this.

He moved to his right, waited for Shahzad to come at him, then moved just a half step over and lanced the man's side as he moved past. He turned then, as Shahzad came back at him, breathing hard, running fast. He misjudged the time just by a half second and received a long, shallow cut from the right side of his chest down to his hip. He winced in pain and stumbled backward a few steps, but quickly pushed forward again to attack. Shahzad blocked him, made a counterattack, and was blocked in return.

They were matched too well in strength and skill, slicing each other's skin over and over , but never deep enough to cause any fatal or incapacitating injuries. If he didn't make a better attack soon, they'd be cutting each other up until there was nothing left of either of them. However, he didn't know any attacks that Shahzad didn't know. They'd sparred together too many times, and both of them knew how the other fought too well.

He thought and finally, he made up his mind. It was the simplest move in the world and probably the oldest trick in the history of fighting, but if it worked...all he needed to do was make Shahzad lunge at him.

Shahzad was blocking one of his own attacks at the moment, and Tahir eased on his saber slightly, letting Shahzad bring his own saber down on top. The man thrust the blade down with force, and Tahir let himself stumble backward, where he stood for a moment, breathing more heavily than he needed to and pressing his left hand to one of the many slashes across his skin. He felt the warm, sticky, half-dried blood beneath his fingers.

He heard Shahzad hesitating, likely confused that he was just now bothering with the wound that had been inflicted several minutes ago. The man paused, then made up his mind and started for him at a run. Tahir heard his feet sliding forcefully through the sand, heard the sound of the saber raised in the air. He stayed where he was. He needed his timing to be perfect for Shahzad to not simply spin around the moment he realized he was past him.

He waited, waited, the man was five steps away, four steps, three—just before the saber came cutting through him he stepped to his left, brought his own saber swinging and felt it smack into something. Then he heard the blade drop with a thud next to his feet. He wasn't entirely sure where he'd hit, whether it was Shahzad's arm or the saber itself, but he'd accomplished his goal: the man was disarmed. He heard Shahzad fall into the sand somewhere ahead of him. He knelt down and found the man's weapon in the sand, picking it up and beginning to slowly walk in Shahzad's direction, both weapons outstretched in his hands.

Everything was silent, as it had been before, and Tahir knew without asking that everyone was watching them still, watching him to see what he would do. He could hear Shahzad's ragged breathing beneath him and could guess from the height that he was on his knees in the sand, facing him. The man didn't get up. "Shahzad," Tahir began.

"You've won," the man replied, before Tahir could get out anything else. His voice was low and quiet and almost rasping. Disappointment filled his tone, and Tahir suddenly felt sorry him. Shahzad wanted the Sands, likely as much as he did, if for lesser purposes. He thought he _needed_ them to rule. Tahir knew he didn't, but he didn't know if Shahzad would see that.

"Shahzad—" he began again, but was abruptly cut off.

"Kill me," Shahzad said, in the same flat, hopeless voice.

Tahir stopped suddenly. Kill him? That was not what he was expecting. He'd thought—well, he didn't know what he'd thought. He was expecting some despair or more anger or attempts to fight him again, but not...an order to kill the man. "What?" he asked in a muffled voice after a moment.

The man's breathing changed direction slightly, and Tahir deduced that Shazad had tipped his head back, to look up at him. "Kill me!" Shahzad commanded again, louder now, voice rising in what sounded like hysteria. "You know as well as I do that I deserve it! I shouldn't be alive, and...I don't want to be alive! I don't want to live without...everything."

Tahir frowned, disbelieving, not quite sure what 'everything' was. He'd never known his friend to just...give up like that, asking for death. But he remembered what Nadim had said, and wondered if it was that again, if it was the Sands driving him crazy, despair filling him as he realized he couldn't have them. "Shahzad..." he started shortly, "I'm not going to kill you."

There was a pause of silence, the only break in it the wild, ragged breaths of Shahzad. "Why?" the man asked finally. "Why? There's no...point to any of it. I don't...I don't want to live. I...I—Faiza's gone, and my father...and the Sands are gone, and—I've lost everything!"

Suddenly, Tahir became aware of the Sands again, behind him, bright and shining gloriously. Then, as if as a gift from them, he could see Shahzad in front of him, his face raised up pleadingly, dark eyes wild and bright, face gleaming with sweat and streaked with tears. This was his friend, his desperate, broken friend, his friend who he would never, ever kill. "You haven't lost everything," he said quietly, tossing both of the sabers away. "You have Arabia still, and you have your mind and everything you've been through to help you rule it justly and wisely."

"I can't!" Shahzad cut in desperately. "I'm not like you! I don't know how to—"

"You'll learn," Tahir interrupted, more insistently now. He was thinking quickly, of everything all at once, and he knew he needed to move quickly. There were people all around him; he could feel them, hurting, dying, wishing for someone to save them—the desert people that were dying as he stood here. The Sands were behind him, quite a ways since he and Shahzad had moved away from them while fighting, but they were there still, and no one would stop him went he went to them.

And Xavia was lying in a tent behind the wall, and he had no idea if she was alive or not, but he was going to die for her nonetheless. And Shahzad, in front of him...he wished he could have more time with him, because he knew the man could get back on his feet, but there was no time for that now. He would just have to trust that Shahzad could make it on his own. It was going to be difficult to leave all this, but he knew he had to go.

"Shahzad," he said urgently. "I'm going to spill the Sands. I'm going to heal Xavia if she's still alive and Arabia as well, and I'm going to die doing it." He saw the man's blank, puzzled expression and went on, "It's part of the rules of Sands, I suppose you could say. On the monument we found weeks ago, Nadim found the information written on it. I have the key to spill them, and when I do so, the Sands will come crashing down on me and suffocate me."

"Then, why would you...?"

Tahir shook his head slightly. "The thing is, I don't mind. I know it'll happen, and I...I don't care. I might have a few regrets, but...I'm glad to have lived my life. And I want you to live yours. You can rule Arabia, Shahzad. I know that you can, and I'd like to be around to see it, but...I can't. I have to go."

He watched the expressions of shock and disbelief and...everything else flicker across his friend's face, then he turned to go. He felt the Sands of Time pulling him towards them, and he walked, slowly, in a straight path directly to them. There was no one following him.

At five yards, he looked up again and saw the sapphire stones, waiting for him to climb them. He moved closer, reached his arms out to grab the highest ones he could reach, put a foot out and pushed his weight up. He climbed, slowly, stretching out one hand high into the sky, grasping onto one of the stones and pushing up with his legs. The Sands flickered strangely in and out of his vision. Sometimes he could see the hourglass in clear cut form, sometimes there was only a golden haze around him, sometimes there was nothing.

He was up five feet, ten feet—it wasn't a long climb. Before he knew it, he was at the middle section of the hourglass, and he could see the keyhole clearly in front of him. He reached down into the pocket by his leg and pulled the large key out. He held it up and waited, just for a moment, because he could see.

He could see suddenly the desert spread out wide and golden before him, the sands colored like the hottest days of midsummer, with dunes that waved back and forth like the way the wind felt when it swept across his skin on a swift ride through the desert. The sky was that color called blue, calming and so high and wide, like freedom. From the high height, he could see the long wall with its broken opening and the red and gold tent where he'd left Xavia with Nadim.

Then, the scenery was blurred with other visions. He could see a blind, blue-eyed orphan boy playing in the marketplace, aspiring to be a great warrior if he couldn't see. He could see the same boy as an edgy youth struggling and frustrated as he tried to spar with the other boys. He could see a lovesick boy dreaming over a pale-skinned girl he didn't know, the only person he'd ever seen. He saw the boy making friends with another youth—the prince from the palace. He saw them sitting on rooftops together; he saw them laughing freely. He saw the boy struggling to become the leader of the Forty Thieves. He saw him struggling to make choices, with friends and loyalty and love, making some wrong and some right. And finally, he saw the blind boy as a man, reaching one of his dreams and giving up all the rest.

He smiled, because he knew this was the right thing. He gripped the key and fitted it into its place. His hand turned it slowly, and he watched the hourglass crack into streaks of white light until it was only a blinding brilliance, and he could see no more.

* * *

I hope this chapter turned out alright. I know action scenes aren't exactly what I'm best at, but hopefully you enjoyed it. I would be honored to receive your thoughts on it all. Especially since it's the climax, and oh-so-dramatic and all. :D


	37. Chapter 37

The wind was hot and harsh, full of the sand that had just been spilled, now flying freely through the air. Shahzad kneeled still, vaguely aware that it was beating against his face, grinding into his skin. He stared in stunned silence. He...he'd seen the hourglass crack in bright streaks of light, and then it had shattered into a million pieces, and there was sand, pouring out, everywhere, and...some of the people, infected desert dwellers had seemed to glow for a moment as their welts disappeared and their strength returned.

The Sands of Time were gone now, completely. Not a trace of the hourglass, and if there was a bit more sand in this spot than usual, well, it would get scattered soon enough, and it was indistinguishable from the rest of the desert anyhow. The Sands were gone. He didn't know if that bothered him. It...it had briefly, but now...they were gone, and it was just another fact of life, along with so many things. He would never rule with them, and...maybe he breathed a bit easier without them.

But—but there was that other thing, which he tried not to think about, was always thinking about, or...was he even thinking at all? He had watched...he'd watched Tahir walk slowly to the hourglass and...climb up it and put in the key, and—and fall as it shattered, and the Sands poured out onto of him, and...he was gone. _Gone_. The man who should have killed him—the man who didn't kill him—the man who...was his friend, even through all their disagreements. He was gone.

He turned his head dazedly to look at the two sabers on the ground, left where Tahir had dropped them, when he'd said that...he wouldn't kill him and...he hadn't lost everything. _He hadn't lost everything_. The metal blades shone brightly in the sunlight, though a large part of both of them was swept over with a layer of sand. Shahzad glanced down at himself, noticing suddenly that _he_ was partly buried in the sand as well. His knees were completely covered, and the sand went part way up his thighs. He hadn't even realized.

Abruptly, he stood up, forcing his legs out of the sand and shaking it off his clothing as well as he could. He looked at the giant sand dune that had formed over the area, then detachedly examined his hands. His right hand had been bleeding heavily by his thumb, where Tahir's saber had cut in order to disarm him. It was a scarlet river before, slippery between his fingers, dripping down his hand. Now there was nothing, not even a trace of blood. The rest of his cuts were the same, gone completely, as if he and Tahir had never fought at all.

He walked slowly to the sabers, looking at the blades more closely now. There was red, crimson blood on the edges of them, evidence of the fight that had been fought, the fight that he'd instigated. He looked at his hands again, and he knew there should have been blood on them. The wind blew hard again, and he felt grains of sand sticking to the damp spots on his face.

He thought of what Tahir had said to him again, the words repeating over and over in his mind. _You haven't lost everything. _Well, if he hadn't before, he had now! Despair washed over him suddenly, as he realized Tahir was gone, his one friend—the one who'd stuck with him through everything and anything, and he...he'd thrown it all away. Tahir didn't hate him. Tahir had known he was making wrong decisions, but Tahir had never hated him or betrayed him on purpose. _He_ was the one who had done that, willfully betrayed his friends, done it all for nothing now. Everything he'd worked so hard for, all of it was gone, and none of it mattered now, if it had ever mattered.

But...what was it Tahir had said after that? _You have Arabia still, and you have your mind and everything you've been through to help you rule it justly and wisely. _Pursing his lips, he looked around him, taking in the miles of gold that traveled all the way to the far horizon, meeting the big blue sky, and the way the wind swept through the dunes, changing them and reshaping them into its wild patterns. Arabia. This was what his father had loved, and this was what had been his constant through...through everything. This was his home, and he still had it, and he would never let it go.

But...he felt so lost. He didn't know what to do now, without the Sands, without...Tahir. He wanted someone to tell him what to do, someone to give him orders, the same calm, reassuring orders his father had given and Tahir and Mahmud gave, the ones he'd always...wished he could give. He looked around him, though, at a people who looked just as lost as he did, if not more so. The Royal Guard stood scattered throughout the air, staring at everything, at nothing. Everything they'd journeyed out here for was gone. The desert people looked happy to be well again but not much beyond that. They still had no water, no homes. And the Thieves, in their small clump of men, lost and brokenhearted without their leader.

No one was stepping up to organize anything, to reassure everyone. Not even Mahmud would utter an order. He stood gathered with his men, looking at the nothing that had once been the Sands of Time. There was no one to lead these people but himself, born into the job, and he was scared out of his mind.

But he had to do something. The question was: what? He looked around aimlessly, wanting the Sands to help him, but they weren't there. He had to make this decision on his own.

A thought suddenly struck him. What if Tahir wasn't dead yet? He was buried under a lot of sand, no doubt, and would obviously be having trouble breathing, but...it took a while to die. Of course, saving Tahir wouldn't solve all of his problems, but...he wanted his friend back. He wanted to save the man who had given him back his own life he didn't deserve, he wanted to...thank him. He wanted to make amends, and if there was any way to do that, he was going to.

How to do it was the difficult part. The man was buried under a _lot_ of sand. But it had spread out a lot, and it wasn't like he was in a hole that had been filled in with the stuff, he was just...covered. He could be uncovered. He cracked his knuckles, looking at the large hill of sand in front of him. It was still soft and blowing, and that meant it would be slippery. A man could easily sink in it and get stuck if he wasn't careful. They would have to be very, very careful.

He turned around, looking at all of the men and the desert people scrambled throughout the area behind him. If they all helped, they had a chance at this.

He turned towards the Thieves first, surveying their gloomy countenances and slumped postures. They were good men, he realized. They had been his friends, before. But he'd hated them, hated them so viciously for so long, and...what if they didn't listen to him? He felt his palms grow cold and sweaty, his heartbeat rising. They had no cause to listen to him, and..._he_ probably wouldn't listen to himself, if he was in their place. Still, he had to try. For Tahir.

He took a breath. "Thieves!" he called out loudly, his raised voice piercing into the stillness that had settled over the area.

The men turned towards him blankly, no expression on their worn, tired faces. They didn't look inclined to help him. But then, they didn't precisely look inclined to oppose him either.

"Thieves," he began again, now taking long, swift paces towards them, to speak to them more personally. When he reached them, he stopped, looking into their honest, broken faces. "You have no reason to trust me, no reason to listen to anything I say, but...please, I'm begging you. A better man than I is buried under that sand," he indicated the large, soft pile of gold, "and if there is any way to get him out, we'll all need to help."

There was a sudden loud murmur of surprise and interest. He saw them visibly straighten and saw their eyes dart to look at the sand with a sudden liveliness in them, a new vitality. They had a purpose again.

"You think we can get him out?"

Shahzad turned to look into the cool black eyes of Jalal, watching him with all seriousness and asperity, face as unreadable as stone. The rest of the men turned as well, watching the two of them face each other and waiting silently. Shahzad knew his answer could win or lose the approval of all of them. He swallowed.

"I think we can try," he said at last. "I think we have to try. But we'll have to go quickly," he added, suddenly realizing the time they were losing as they stood here talking—the air Tahir was losing. The Thieves' reaction to him—while he did still want their approval—didn't matter anymore. It was what he did that mattered. They could hold a grudge against him for as long as he pleased—and they had the right to do so—but in the end, all he could do was try to do better and make better decisions now than he had in the past.

Without waiting for any reaction, he abruptly rushed away from them and towards the area where the Sands had spilled. He needed to know how loose it was, how easy it would be dig to dig through, and how easy it would be to stand on. As he stepped farther onto the area, he felt it get softer and looser beneath his feet. He began to sink, slowly, feeling grains of sand slipping over him, piling on top of his toes, all over his feet, up his legs. Before he hardly realized what was happening, he was covered halfway up to his knees, and he wasn't even close to the middle section of the dune yet.

Swallowing, beginning to panic, he pulled his right leg forcefully out of the sand, pushed forward on it, even as it began to sink again, and pulled his left leg out as well, then pressing forward on that one. It was a slow, awkward process, and he wasn't making much headway very quickly. Then, looking up suddenly he saw a dark, calloused hand outstretched to help him.

He glanced up and saw that Jalal was the one reaching out to him. He was in the soft area and sinking slightly as well, but the rest of the Thieves were behind him, each holding onto one another in a chain stretching back to the more solid ground. Once he'd grasped Jalal's hand, they all started moving backward until they'd all been pulled out of the sinking sand.

He looked at Jalal gratefully, nodding his thanks, and Jalal gave a small, almost invisible nod back. Shahzad glanced around him for a moment more, a plan formulating in his head. As long as they all held onto each other and had someone on the solid, compacted sand, as they'd just done, none of them would sink too far or get stuck. It would be difficult searching through the sand like that, but it could be done.

"We need to make more lines, like we just were!" he shouted, turning around him now to look at the Royal Guard, watching him with some skepticism. They likely couldn't grasp his sudden change in motivations, but...it didn't matter. He needed them all. "Form lines," he urged again, "like we have and add more men onto ours. We're going back out there, and we'll need to hold onto each other if we're not going to sink. We're getting Tahir back. Come on!"

He grasped Jalal's hand with a tighter firmness and began pulling the men with him as he walked back out to the loose, unstable sand. The Royal Guard hurried somewhat confusedly to join onto the back of the line, or to form a few new ones. "Circle the perimeter!" Shahzad ordered, as he began to reach the middle of the area. He was sinking quickly, but not far enough to do any real damage, and he'd be pulled out if he got too far.

Quickly, he bent down and began digging through the sand with his free hand. It was difficult and awkward, being his left hand, and finally he simply shook off the hold he had on the Thieves, hoping desperately he wouldn't sink far. He held his breath the first couple of times he clawed through the sand, but finally, when nothing happened, he figured the sand must have compacted under his weight. He wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing. If Tahir was beneath them, and the sand was compacting...he pursed his lips and dug faster.

His fingernails were quickly becoming entirely full of sand and each tiny grain of it grated against his skin, beginning to irritate and burn like a fire. He kept digging, thrusting his whole arm into it and ripping back to remove the sand. A few more moments, and he felt like his fingernails were being entirely torn off. But Tahir was there somewhere; he had to be. He kept digging.

Men were all around him now, digging forcefully, with sand flying up into the air in mini clouds, dusty brown and red shades everywhere. They were in a frenzy, paying no mind to the heat of the day or parched throats or gnawing hunger. There was them, and there was sand. In a quick glance around him, Shahzad saw the desert people, hesitantly forming lines as he and the Royal Guard had done and beginning to dig through the sand as well. Shahzad smiled briefly and thought that perhaps the world wasn't all wrong after all. Then he returned to digging.

Time seemed to slow down or perhaps stop altogether. He lost track of it completely. It could have been seconds; it could have been days. He dug and dug with almost no progress, but never losing track of his purpose. His world became sand, and then—then he touched something. Something that wasn't sand. It was skin, calloused but warm. He grasped onto it with all his might and pulled, and the skin became an arm, and the arm became a body, and the rest of the Thieves gathered around to get all his limbs out of the sand.

It was Tahir. He'd found him, finally, after passing through what seemed like an entire world of sand. The area was completely dug up into trenches and piles and they were all sweating and steaming and dehydrated, and maybe they would all die here together, but by the desert, it didn't matter! It was Tahir. They'd found him.

He felt like laughing; he felt like crying, but when he looked at the other men around him, they still stood stock still, watching the man on the ground. Then a sudden fear fell on him again, that this was all for naught. He'd accomplished nothing, he...the first thing he'd tried to do, really tried hard to accomplish, he'd failed at. He pursed his lips, turning blankly to the man next to him. It was Jalal.

"Is he breathing?" Shahzad asked quietly.

Jalal said nothing, but glanced solemnly from Shahzad's eyes back down to the ground.

At last, Shahzad turned to look—really look—for himself. Tahir lay still, so still. His chest didn't rise or fall. His face could have been carved in stone for the blank look of peace and death it held. He was too late. _Too late.

* * *

_The first thing she noticed was the warmth. It soaked into her skin, spreading all throughout her. She finally wasn't shivering, for the first time in so long. She was warm. Actually, she was beginning to feel almost hot, but it wasn't that sweating, feverish heat she'd known before. She was comfortable, completely comfortable.

It was the feeling of contentment that she associated with belonging purely to home. When she opened her eyes, she would be in her own bed, curled up with all her covers, and there would be her window with the sunlight streaming through it and falling down on her. At any moment, she would breathe in the wafting smells of breakfast cooking in the kitchens, and she'd stretch her arms out slowly, glance at the weather outside, and slowly pick out her clothing for the day.

She lay for a moment, relishing in her own warmth and comfort. Then, finally, she opened her eyes, and was shocked to see sand. She was lying on it, curled up on her side in the soft, loose grains. And there were the tent walls, illuminated to brilliant shades of gold and crimson as the sunlight shone through the cloth. Nearly right in front of her face was a black boot, and she followed it up with her eyes to see Nadim sitting in front of her, staring at the far side of the wall with a dazed, lost expression.

Then it all came crashing down at her again: the sweat and the headaches and the pains in all her muscles, the shivering and the tears and the _knowing_ she was _dying_. It had all hurt so, so much. And now, it was all over. And if it was all over, that meant...she sat up abruptly, feeling a new kind of coldness coming over her, fear traveling up her spine.

Nadim jumped slightly at her sudden movement, startled. He stared at her for a moment like she was a ghost, and then his face fell and his eyes turned slowly down to his hands. "Xavia," he said her name in a dull monotone, "you're awake." He stared at nothing for another moment and frowned, slowly starting to speak again. "I was going to...watch you. To see what happened when you were healed, but I...I didn't even notice." His voice fell off into silence, a silence so still and so...odd, coming from him of all people. It frightened her.

"Nadim!" she almost screamed his name at him in a choking, almost-sob, feeling her throat suddenly constricting, her fears realized. If Tahir—but he—he was—it couldn't be true; it wasn't fair!

Nadim looked upon her more kindly now, noticing her own pain at finding at last the state of things when she woke from her long unconsciousness. It wasn't easy to wake up to such change. He took her hand, so pale against his own and squeezed it lightly with a tiny, half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

She felt her vision blurring and began to blink rapidly, forcing back tears. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't cry. If she started crying now, she wouldn't be able to stop, and she needed to stop. She needed to...to think, as painful as it was. She didn't even know the whole story. She looked at Nadim again, watching her with pity in between moments of his own despondency. "Tahir...he...what happened?" she asked at last.

"The desert people you met came, with warriors and horses," Nadim replied tonelessly, repeating the story as if it was something he'd heard and had no personal connection with, like it was something from long ago. "The battle served as a distraction. The guards were called away to fight, and I came with a horse to get Tahir. He thought you were dead, but then...you were breathing, so he went gladly to spill the Sands. You're well again now, so...he must have succeeded."

Xavia swallowed, feeling guilty and glad and...like she was going to burst apart at any moment, and Tahir...she...he—he was gone, and if she hadn't gotten sick—but she _had_ gotten sick, and he'd wanted to die for her, and...oh, goodness, it hurt so much! Her comfort from moments before was shattered completely, and a new sort of pain had taken hold of her. She felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest and torn into pieces; she felt like a very part of her own being was being...ripped away from her and shredded, and...what was it Tahir had said about it, about them being fate bound and him dying?

_It's called severing. When I die willingly we'll be cut off from each other. You won't ever have to feel me or dream of me again._

But—but—what if she wanted to feel him still, what if she wanted to dream of him? She wanted him here now, and...everything he'd ever said to her, every expression of him face, every gesture...they all played back in her mind again and again. The way he'd stroked her hand when she told him he had the plague, the soft tone he spoke to her with whenever he was worried, the way he laughed at her with his eyes, the way he held himself so straight whenever he talked to Shahzad, defending what he knew was right even when it would hurt him.

She...she loved him. It was so simple, she felt like she could laugh, and yet all she could do was cry now, completely giving up on the idea of forcing it back. Nadim stared at her with an oddly stricken face, and then she did start to laugh and sob at the same time. She loved Tahir. She loved him so, so much, but she'd never realized it before now, at least...not like this. And she'd never told him, even though he'd left her so faithfully, with no reward for his devotion. She'd taken him for granted and now...and now...

She ripped her hand away from Nadim's and scrambled to her feet quickly, turning to the tent opening. If there was any way, any at all—she needed to find him. She needed to tell him.

"Xavia, what are you doing?" Nadim inquired as he hastily rose to his feet as well.

She turned back around to face him, her bottom lip quivering. "I'm going to find him, if I can," she said brokenly, then turned back and walked out of the tent.

"But he's not—there will only be blood there...and sand..." she heard Nadim beginning to argue with her, but she paid him no heed. She needed to see for herself if...if he was gone. She needed to say goodbye, even if he was, but maybe—just _maybe_ he wouldn't be.

She could guess that the way was through the opening in the long wall she saw, apparently going and coming from nowhere. It seemed familiar almost, like something from a dream, though she hadn't ever really seen it. There was another pain, like a stab through her chest, and she let out a sharp cry, knowing this was what severing was, and it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before. But maybe, if it was still hurting, maybe that meant he wasn't dead yet.

She broke into a run then, flying and leaping through the sand, feeling it kick up around her ankles in clouds. She slipped in it once, falling on her knees and feeling it burn against her skin, but in a moment she was back up and running again. The sand seemed to blur around her, until she was finally through the wall, and she saw a large hill of sand that seemed oddly out of place, likely where the Sands had spilled.

Men were all over the area, along with the slightly darker desert people she remembered from before. The children turned toward her with bright smiles and waves. She waved hesitantly back, but neither her heart nor her mind was in it. She stared at where the Thieves were gathered in a small circle, with the Royal Guard fanning out around them in an area that looked like it had been scoured over for...buried treasure or something.. She watched them curiously, wondering what they were doing, before realizing they were surrounding something—or someone. Her steps slowed from their fast, racing pace, and at about fifty yards, she started walking.

She went slowly, trying her best to look dignified, even as she gnawed at her bottom lip and bit back tears. The Royal Guard stepped out of her way, and then even the Thieves moved slowly away, still clanking in their chains, forming into a line leading up to...him. She walked past them and they nodded solemnly to her. She heard running behind her and glanced back to see that Nadim had followed her. She saw the questions on the tip of his tongue, then the breathed, "Oh," as he saw the situation. She turned and smiled at him as well as she could, then kept walking forward.

Just a few more steps, a few more steps, and then...and then what? Jalal stepped in her path in front of the rest and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him awkwardly back, smiling in spite of herself, even as she fought the rising sobs. She wouldn't cry again—not until she'd looked at him, at least.

The last man to move out of her way was Shahzad, and she was surprised to see him. He'd been at odds with Tahir for so long, but...perhaps something had changed. She looked at his face, and _knew_ something had changed. There was no bitter jealousy or anger, only grief. He was heavily dirtied with sand, and she realized he must have been the one to decide to...dig up Tahir. No one else would have been allowed to without his consent. His eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and she felt the ones in her own eyes threatening to fall.

"We...pulled him out of the sand," Shahzad said roughly as he stepped out of the way. "I'm...sorry. If I could..." he broke off painfully, then looked honestly into her eyes. "I'm just so sorry."

She swallowed painfully and look up at the man, nodding silently before turning to look past him, finally facing Tahir. He was completely caked in sand. His hair shown with specks of gold scattered throughout the black, and his clothes and skin were covered, millions of tiny grains sticking to him. And his face...it was so still, his body was so...unmoving, limp, not like him.

Feeling two tears sliding in wet trails down her cheeks, she knelt beside him and picked up one of his hands. Her other hand moved hesitantly to his face, shaking as it brushed back his black hair. "Tahir," she breathed his name out quietly. "I...I wanted to thank you, for everything. And I...I love you. I wanted you to know." She swallowed again, and tears began falling more swiftly down her face, realizing he would never know. It didn't matter what she said to him now, because he was already gone. But still, she had to say goodbye to him somehow.

She looked at him a moment longer, then began to turn away. She couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't stand seeing him so...so still. She couldn't stand watching him when he wasn't really there. He should have been breathing. He should have been moving, talking, living. But he wasn't. She turned away, rising slowly to her feet. Shahzad and the rest of the Thieves stood a small distance away, watching her with pity. She started to move towards them—then stopped abruptly as she heard a rasping breath behind her.

She turned slowly, hardly daring to hope. He couldn't be alive. Surely, he'd been without air for too long, and he hadn't been breathing at all, but...he was moving. His chest rose and fell quickly in deep, forceful breaths. And his eyes, his beautiful, blind, blue eyes were open, and then he was coughing, leaning far over onto one side and choking out mouthfuls of wet, brown sand.

All she could do was watch him, feeling her pounding heartbeat, watching him breathe, just breathe, and she thought if all she ever did was watch him breathe, she'd be happy. She bit her lower lip to stop its trembling and felt tears slipping freely down her face. He was alive. He was alive, and she had another a chance, a chance to not take him for granted this time. A chance to love him, as he'd loved her all along.

The other Thieves were beginning to crowd around him now, asking questions, slapping him on the back until he almost started to choke again, laughing. Nadim was there, crowding the most with his complicated questions about the Sands, waving his hands wildly about in front of his face.

"And the hourglass, where there any markings on it, anything of interest? And what happened when you turned the key? Did you actually see them spill out or see the hourglass disappear? What did the sand feel like when it started to crush you? Was it any different from normal sand, or was it just...sand, like all sand is?"

Tahir gave weak, muffled answers that she couldn't hear very well, but she strained to listen when he began to ask his own questions. "How am I...?" was about all he got out before Jalal jumped in to answer.

"We all dug you out, at the risk of sinking and suffocating ourselves. That sand was quick and soft, let me tell you. It was sucking us under. But we got you out. It wasn't all us, though. It was Shahzad's idea. He pulled you out."

They all glanced around for a moment, looking for the sultan. Xavia spotted him, not too far from her, both of them standing outside the circle of men. They all cared for Tahir, but the two of them were different, not quite fitting in with that crowd of Thieves, both for their own separate reasons. Shahzad stood with his arms crossed, looking downward at nothing in particular. He didn't look up when they spoke his name, until finally Tahir spoke to him directly. "Shahzad."

He moved towards the circle quickly, eyes locked on the blind man in the center of it. "Yes, Tahir?"

"Thank you," was all Tahir said.

Xavia saw Shahzad swallow, nodding slightly. "You're welcome," was his simple reply, but his voice was choked, and when he stepped backward she saw he was trembling. There was still so much between them; there had to be so much lying on Shahzad's conscience. But it could be worked out, somehow.

The Thieves asked a few more questions of Tahir, but as she peered through them, peeking through shoulders and standing on her toes to see over them as they frequently switched positions, she saw his eyes straining as well, searching through all the nothing he saw, until they could finally catch on her. She looked back at him, their eyes locked together, and pursed her lips in a shy smile.

The men seemed to sense Tahir's change in mood, and they glanced back at her with understanding eyes, beginning to back away from the area. They parted as before and moved closer to Shahzad. Jalal winked brazenly at her as he passed, and she gave a slight laugh, before starting forward, feeling her face flushing pink. She felt ridiculous. This was Tahir, and she'd been through far too much with him to still be blushing. Yet she was.

She knelt, somewhat hesitantly on the sand in front of him, feeling his eyes on her, his attention solely focused on her. Her tongue seemed to catch in her throat, and she didn't know what to say to him. How could she ever say anything that would get across what she was feeling now? However, it wasn't a problem long, as he spoke first.

"Xavia," he said simply, in a voice that sounded raw, likely from all the sand that had been in it, "you're alive." He looked at her again, with a long, sweeping gaze that seemed to take her in entirely, and his eyes were so...so blue, like on that day, in the rain.

"Yes," she replied. "And so are you." She looked back at him, neither of them speaking, both of them staring wordlessly, breathing in the moment.

"I'm glad," Tahir replied with a slight, half-formed smile, and then she laughed, because it was so—so awkward, and not awkward at all, and—he was alive, and she was alive, and everything inside her was bursting at the seams, and she had no idea what to say, but there was so much to say, and—

"Tahir, I love you," she spoke abruptly, with words that seemed like they were falling apart as she spoke them. "I—I—" she wanted to say more, something that would mean more, somehow, but...there was nothing more to say, so she simply repeated herself. "I love you."

He looked at her, and his face broke into a grin. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that," he said with a laugh. "I love you, too, Xavia. With everything in me."

She smiled, and he smiled back, and for a moment they simply knelt there, grinning at each other like children, content to do nothing more than smile, because it felt like...like sunshine on a cold day, like waking up and knowing everything was alright, like good surprises. Then, suddenly, she wanted to touch him; she wanted to know that he was really there.

She reached her right arm forward, brushing it lightly against his arm, feeling his warm skin, and then suddenly his arm reached around her waist, pulling her closer, and he kissed her with soft, warm lips for the second time since they'd met. And this time, she kissed him back, and a sharp wind blew up, sending grains of sand flying into the air and falling down on them like rain.

* * *

You should review, because I updated in less than a week! (Yes, one day less, but it still counts!)


	38. Chapter 38

Xavia's hand felt warm inside his own. Tahir walked along, with Xavia beside him, going downhill towards the encampment, past the wall. Everyone was with them, all of them finally heading back, away from the battle, away from the huge sand dune. There hadn't been any casualties, which seemed unbelievable at first, but no one had died before the Sands were spilled, and the Sands had healed everyone's injuries.

His feet began to pick up speed as the dunes sloped down more and more, until he was going at a jaunty pace, bouncing slightly with each step. He was pulling Xavia onward with him, as she went at a slower pace, being actually able to see the ground she was stepping on. He could have slowed down for her, but instead he simply swung his arm more, swinging hers as well until she stumbled down to him, finally matching his pace.

She turned toward with him with an exasperated expression, shaking her head at him, curls flying. He noted, however, that the corners of her mouth couldn't keep from crinkling upward. "You could have made me trip," she complained, lowering her eyebrows at him.

"Well, maybe you should walk faster," he replied with a simple shrug, grinning back at her.

She shook her head again, insistently. "Maybe you should pay attention where you're going, before you send me tumbling down hills and breaking my neck!" she exaggerated the situation, but did it with narrowed eyes and a pouting mouth until he could almost believe her frustration.

"Bickering already," came Jalal's voice, sweeping past his other side.

Xavia frowned, then her face abruptly broke into a sunny smile, and she gave a somewhat stifled laugh. "I don't mind," she said, then he felt her swerve, tugging on his hand and pulling her over with him. "But do try not to run into anyone, Tahir. We've reached the camp now, and you don't want to throw everyone into a panic."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tahir replied dryly, slowing his pace and moving along with Xavia towards the sound of the other Thieves, laughing together a short distance away. He felt a sharp tap on his shoulder then and stopped, turning. Xavia pulled on his arm, then stopped and turned as well when she felt his resistance. She looked past him at whoever it was, and her face grew slightly more solemn, though not unfriendly.

He heard Shahzad's voice then, directed toward him. "Tahir, I was wondering if we could...talk."

"Of course," Tahir replied quickly, a bit surprised. He hadn't expected Shahzad to come up to him so soon, but...he supposed he had expected them to talk sometime. They had a lot to talk about. He turned back to his right where Xavia stood looking between the two of them. He smiled at her, dropping her hand lightly. This was one conversation he had to have alone, something that—though she'd been involved in it—was really only between him and Shahzad. "Xavia, please excuse me," he said quietly to her. "I'll come find you when we're finished."

She gave an understanding nod and smiled first at him, then past him, likely at Shahzad beyond. Then she turned, with a whirl of her vibrant curls and began to walk away in the direction of Nadim and Jalal's laughing voices. The Thieves, along with the Royal Guard and desert people, had all been planning on getting food and water rations when they returned to camp, as it had been a long day for all of them. Tahir was feeling more than a little hungry, and his throat still burned from all the sand that he'd choked on, but it could wait. Shahzad was more important to him than food and water, any day.

"Let's go into the tent, where we can speak more privately," Shahzad spoke immediately when Tahir turned back, before he could get out any words at all.

Tahir nodded, deferring to Shahzad, and followed the sound of the man's footsteps forward. He listened to the way the tent flap sounded, raising into the air, then drifting slowly back down into its place behind them. The air inside the tent felt cooler, the walls and ceiling blocking out the hottest of the sun's rays. It was quieter too, muffling the sounds of the voices and laughter from those outside. They could still be heard faintly, but Tahir didn't mind it. It was a good thing, after these weeks of silence and tension, to hear people happy again, able to laugh together without a care.

He turned toward the sound of Shahzad's breathing at the opposite end of the tent, preparing himself for what could be a very awkward conversation, but one that would determine how their relationship would go from here. He wanted it to go well; he hoped that someday they would be able to laugh together again, too, putting the past behind them. If it ever happened, this would be the conversation to start it. He hoped they could both find the right words to say.

"Well," he started hesitantly, unsure of himself. "I suppose...we both have a lot to say to each other." He knew it wasn't the most eloquent way to begin a conversation, but...he couldn't think of much else. He could easily decide what to say to his men when they needed orders, but in real, personal conversations, he often found himself at a loss for words.

For a moment, he only heard silence from the other side of the tent, and he began to panic, wondering if he'd somehow offended the man, though he didn't think so. He pursed his lips, beginning to feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He wiped it away with his forearm. He needed to think—he needed to get this right, for once. "Shahzad—"

"I wanted to apologize," Shahzad cut in before he could say anything else. The man's voice sounded strangled, like he was fighting off sobs. "I—I'm sorry. I betrayed you, as one of the Thieves, and I betrayed you as a friend, and I'm sorry."

Tahir listened quietly to these words, then listened to the silence, feeling it all around them, thickening. He—he remembered so well the feeling of Shahzad's betrayal. The disbelief and the slow realization of what his friend was doing—what he was becoming—and the horror of it all. He remembered being beaten by Shahzad's orders, watching Shahzad order one of the Thieves, a man with a family at home, to be killed mercilessly. He could have lorded it over him now, flung it all in his face. In some way, he felt like...the man deserved it, after everything he'd done...didn't he?

But he also remembered his friend's tears and anguish when Faiza died. He remembered how Shahzad had shaken her, begging her to wake up again and again and how she hadn't. He remembered the lost sound in his voice, always there afterward. He remembered...Shahzad had helped him and Xavia, when he was half dead from dehydration. And just today, Shahzad had begged Tahir to kill him, desperately hurting. And less than an hour ago, Shahzad had pulled him out from the sand, saving his life, when he could have easily turned away.

"It's alright," he said at last. It didn't seem like enough. But it was all he could say at the moment.

"No," Shahzad countered, "it's not. I was angry and jealous of you, because—because you always know what to say, and I don't, and—and when Faiza died, I just lost it. I'm not afraid to say so, because...it's true. And...so I betrayed you, because I wanted power, but...I knew it was wrong. I knew it all along, but I did it anyway!"

Tahir pursed his lips. It was true. It was all true, but...it hadn't just been Shahzad. It was his fault too, and...besides, he didn't mind anymore. They could...move past this. They could be friends again. It was what he wanted, more than anything. "I know," he said quietly. "I know, but...it's alright. I—I haven't been perfect either. I knew I should have been there with you after Faiza died, but I wasn't, and I could have been. And I've manipulated you while we were out here, trying to play with your emotions to get what I wanted. I'm sorry too. We've both made mistakes, but...I can forgive you, Shahzad. Can you forgive me?"

He held his breath, waiting for Shahzad's response. He needed the man's forgiveness. Without that...they couldn't move past this, and moving past it was what they needed. He heard the man take in a shaky breath, let it out in something like a sob. "Yes," he said finally, in a whisper that was hardly more than breath. Then slightly more strong, "but...how can you forgive me? I...I tried to hurt you in so many different ways, I—"

"Because you're my friend, Shahzad," Tahir cut in quickly, realizing that he'd forgiven the man long, long ago. "I...I saw what you were going through, and—but even if I hadn't, I would still forgive you. I never approved of what you were doing, but...I loved you anyways. You were like a brother to me, Shahzad. I can't just...forget about that. And I hope you can't either."

There was a long pause of silence before Shahzad spoke again, softly. "I seemed to, didn't I?" When Tahir made no response, he went on. "I wish I could go back. I wish I could do things differently, but I know that I can't. Not ever."

Tahir gave a slight, sad smile, recalling how many times the exact same thoughts had crossed his mind. So many times, he'd wished to go back in time, to take back all the wrong and somehow make it all right again. But he'd always arrived at the same conclusion as Shahzad. It was impossible. "No," he said, quietly agreeing. "We can't go back. But we can go forward. We can move on, past this, and...we can live better because of it."

"I don't know if I can," Shahzad choked out. "How can I just...move on, after all this? How can I pack up and go home after what I've done, after what I've been? I can't forget about all that! I can't put it behind me, not now...maybe not ever. I don't know how I can...live after this."

Tahir took a deep breath, searching for words. Shahzad was right, at least partially. He didn't know how the man could put what he'd done behind him. He didn't even know how he, himself, would put it behind him. This journey...it had changed all of them, and that change wasn't going away. But maybe...it didn't have to. "Maybe," he started, "maybe you don't have to. Maybe you shouldn't—not completely, anyway. There's a difference between moving on and forgetting. You can't forget, but...you can't kill yourself over it either. Moving on means...learning from it, forgiving yourself. Keep this with you, and...you'll know where you've been...and where you're not ever going back."

Shahzad was silent for a moment, and Tahir heard the sound of his footsteps, pacing across the length of the tent, sand sliding underneath his feet. Then, suddenly, the man stopped in front of him. "I do want to try," he whispered. "I told myself I would try, and...I wouldn't throw away what I threw away before...what I never should have thrown away. But I...it won't be easy."

"No, it won't," Tahir agreed. It definitely wouldn't be easy. He couldn't even imagine what it was like for Shahzad, trying to come back and...live normally after all that. But he was sure it could be done, somehow. And maybe...the difficulty in it was what made it worth trying.

"Will you help me?" Shahzad asked. "I know...I'll have to do a lot of this on my own, that...it was my fault, and I'll have to make amends myself, but...will you be there?"

Tahir smiled. "Yes," he replied. "Yes." He knew now that he had his friend back, the way he was supposed to be. Shahzad would be alright, somehow. He could get through this. And Tahir would be there the whole time to see it. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Thank you," Shahzad said quietly. Then, after a moment of silence, "It'll seem so strange going back to the city after...this."

"Yes, it will," Tahir agreed. Indeed, the idea of just...going back now seemed...crazy, to say the least. And the idea of everyone there being there still, as much unchanged as they were changed was...odd. "It seems impossible that it would even still be there, when we've been...out here for so long."

"I think...it will still hurt to be there without Faiza and my father, but...I loved them, and...I think they knew it. And I'll never forget them. It will feel good to be home again."

Tahir smiled then, a thousand different thoughts popping into his mind at that one word: home. The warm sun beating down on his face, as he sparred outside the city with his men. The smell of all the herbs and spices selling in the marketplace. The noise of the bustling movement and loud voices bartering and gossiping together. The quiet that swept over the city at dusk, when the cool, salty breeze came in from the sea. The soft voices of his friends echoing through the night: Nadim and Jalal, Faiza—she would rest in peace now—and Shahzad. "Yes. Home," was all he said.

"And the plague will be cured," Shahzad reminded him, "just like we always wanted."

Tahir smiled again. Yes, just like they'd always wanted. He remembered a couple of boys dreaming of impossible feats as they talked on top of the rooftops, above the entire city. "It all worked out like we wanted it to, even if it wasn't quite how we'd planned it." The men who'd accomplished those dreams were very different people, but...they were better. They knew their strengths, and they knew their weaknesses, but mostly, they knew what mattered to them.

Suddenly a thought struck him, as he recalled his parched throat and empty stomach. "Shahzad, how are we going to get home?"

He felt Shahzad's breath turn suddenly toward him, then heard an audible groan. "You're right. I hadn't even considered it. It's such a long journey back. We don't have enough rations left to make it. We'll die of dehydration before we reach the city."

Tahir was silent, trying to think of water sources they could use from somewhere, from anywhere! But there wasn't anything out here in the desert. The desert people had had their wells, but those were dried up now. If they could make their travel go faster somehow...that portal! "What about that...ring of stones you found on your way out here?"

"Well, if we come across it going back, we'll use it, but I still don't think it will be enough," Shahzad replied. "It was a long way just getting to it, and we've moved quite a ways past it. It might help, but..." he trailed off.

Tahir was quiet again, trying to think of some solution, trying and failing.

"Well, we'll try it," Shahzad spoke then, interrupting his thoughts with a sudden determination. "We'll try everything."

Tahir heard the sounds of the man's footsteps again, walking past him this time. Then there was the sound of the tent flap being thrown open, and he started to walk that way as well, trailing behind the man. Outside, Shahzad began to speak in a loud, powerful voice, resonating over the entire camp.

"Men" he started, "we need to pack up everything we can tonight! Tomorrow we leave for the city! Its going to be a difficult journey back. We don't have the water or the food that we need, but we're going to try anyway. I know you all want to make it home, and so do I, so we need to be quick and precise! Whatever we don't need, we'll leave here, so start sorting. If you don't know whether or not something is necessary, ask me. As soon as you've all had food and water for tonight and packed up what you can, I want you all to get some sleep. It might be a long day tomorrow, and I want to leave as early as we can. I know you all want to see your families again, so let's get to work!"

There was an almost immediate, "Yes, sir," followed by a bustle of activity. Within moments, Tahir heard the sound of footsteps, rapidly speaking voices, and various objects being slid across the sand. He was a bit surprised by the...authority Shahzad seemed to exerting. He'd taken over the situation with calm, reasonable orders, none of the heated, emotional ones he'd given so often before. He sounded determined, but not panicked, just...trying as hard as he could to get himself and his men home. The change was almost astonishing, but then, perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd always thought before that Shahzad could be a good leader. He just needed to be shown a reason to be one.

"And take the chains off the Thieves!" he heard Shahzad shout again then, from beside him. "They don't need them anymore."

He turned slightly towards his friend, smiling. "Well said."

* * *

Shahzad looked about for the desert people, finally locating them towards the end of the wall, standing in a group together, farther down along the wall. The horses stood with them, sleek and black, looking more still and calm than they ever had in the hands of his men. He wondered for a moment, at how the animals seemed to have chosen their own masters, then abruptly started towards the people at a brisk pace.

He needed to ask them what their plans were exactly. He assumed they would be coming with him and his men, since there wasn't any water out here, but they'd never verified their plans. The city might be a shock to them, after being alone in the desert for so long. In any case, he wanted the horses back. They did belong to him, after all. Though he supposed...if the desert people really wanted to keep them...he couldn't say no very comfortably, when the horses seemed so much more at ease with them than with him.

Mostly, he just needed to talk to them. Everything else was ready to go. The Thieves were in charge of the food and water, carrying the alarmingly small amount of barrels containing them. The Royal Guard carried the bedrolls and the tent. There wasn't much else they were bringing, and the only thing left to do was tie up loose ends and...this. Talking to the desert people.

He stopped abruptly then, realizing he didn't know where Nadim was. He couldn't talk to them without Nadim to translate for him. Albeit, he could try, but it wouldn't go well. He'd never been altogether talented at understanding or using gestures to get across meanings. He needed Nadim.

He glanced around quickly, scanning through the area, searching for him. The Thieves were off to his left, the small group of them clustered together with Tahir and Xavia. Occasionally they glanced over at him, offering encouraging smiles at his rushing around, getting everything together to go. The Royal Guard was a much larger group, scattered practically everywhere, it seemed, but Nadim was nowhere to be found.

He started forward again, slower this time, meandering, still looking for the man, beginning to feel a bit on edge. They didn't have time for this! They needed to leave, as soon as possible, not stand around waiting! However, he swallowed back his anger, trying to remain patient. He knew he should try to keep a cool head at all times, but they were leaving later than he'd wanted to, and he knew they didn't have enough rations to get home, and...it was stressful, to say the least. He wanted to get home. And he wanted to get the rest of them home as well, more than anything. He'd felt many temptations to start yelling at his men today when they went too slow, but he knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. Shouting only made people angry; it didn't speed them into obedience.

He stopped suddenly when he spotted Jalal coming toward him, walking vigorously from the direction of the desert people. The man smiled and gave a short nod when he noticed Shahzad looking at him, and in short order he'd stopped in front of Shahzad. "Your majesty," he began with another nod, "I came to tell you the desert people want to speak to you. Or at least I think that's what they were indicating with all of their pointing and whatnot. It was difficult to say without Nadim translating."

"Really?" Shahzad replied, almost marveling that the man had even been able to understand anything at all from the desert people without Nadim. Where was that man anyways? "I was just wanting to talk to them myself. I was looking for Nadim to help. Have you seen him at all?"

Jalal nodded, raising his eyebrows and glancing over his shoulder, back toward the desert people. "I've seen him. He's over there by them, but not paying any attention. Something on the wall seems to have caught his interest. Couldn't get anything out of him but jabbering. You know how he is."

Shahzad smiled, giving a short laugh. "Yes, I do. Well, I'll go down there, see if I can get his attention. Thank you for telling me." He glanced at the crowd of desert dwellers himself. They looked like they were watching him, waiting. He swallowed, still not entirely sure he'd gained their good opinion.

"Alright," Jalal replied. "I think—if I can understand Nadim's rambling properly—he wanted Tahir and Xavia to come over, so...we'll all be down there shortly." With that, he started past Shahzad, walking towards the Thieves.

Shahzad watched him go for a moment, then turned and began walking himself, in the opposite direction. He walked quickly in long strides towards the desert people and the horses, all standing together. As he neared them, he finally located Nadim. The man was standing next to the desert people but closer to the wall, one arm leaning on it and the other with his finger up next to it, trailing along some markings.

The desert people looked at him expectantly as he stopped in front of them. They seemed to straighten, watching him, and the old man and woman walked forward, stopping in front of him. The man said something he didn't understand, watched him for a moment, then glanced at Nadim when he didn't respond.

Shahzad gave a small, slightly awkward smile at all of them that were still looking at him, then turned toward the man at the wall. "Nadim!" he called his name out loudly, as the man looked very involved in...whatever it was he was doing. "I need to speak to these people, and I need you to translate."

Nadim's only response was to remove the hand that was leaning on the wall and hold it back with one finger held up, indicating for them to wait. "Just...hold on," he mumbled after several moment. "I've almost got it..."

"Nadim!" Shahzad started again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. There couldn't possibly be anything all that interesting...well, maybe it would be to Nadim, but...there couldn't possibly be anything that necessary for their interests as a whole. They needed to leave, not spend days translating meaningless runes in the desert.

"It's important, now hush!"

"What could be so important now that we've already—" Shahzad was cut off as the man whirled around to face him with a lowered brow, evidently finished.

"Water could be that important," Nadim said matter-of-factly, crossing his own arms over his chest and giving a mockingly self-important smile. "Now did Jalal go to find Tahir and Xavia like I told him to?"

"I...believe so," Shahzad replied, frowning confusedly. Water? Had he said water? Well, if there was anything to do with water, then he was very, very interested, but—how could there be any water out here? And what did the wall have to do or...say about it? He looked at Nadim, waiting for more of an explanation, but Nadim didn't seem interested in giving one. He was staring in the other direction, watching something.

In a moment, Shahzad turned as well and saw that Tahir and Xavia were now approaching, with Jalal and all the rest of the Thieves in tow. The entire Royal Guard also seemed to be trailing behind them, likely in want of anything better to do. He waited, realizing that Nadim wasn't about to explain anything until everyone got here. Finally, after a few moments that seemed far longer than that, and a few rapidly interchanged words between Nadim and the desert people, they were all close enough to listen.

"Nadim, what is this all about?" Tahir asked, likely echoing the thoughts of everyone.

"It's—the—" Nadim started off stuttering, as he didn't know where to begin. "Shahzad, you still have both rings, correct?" he asked at last, turning to look Shahzad directly in the eye.

Shahzad nodded. "Yes," he replied, unsure of what that had to do with anything. He glanced downward at his hands, where both of the rings rested, one on each of his ring fingers. They were still beautiful, with the sapphire parts shining like the sky. The gold parts in the middle were still pretty too, but they didn't seem to shine quite as brightly as before. The specks of gold that floated and sparkled before now seemed lackluster, just the same as any other grains of sand in the desert.

"They have a gold part on them, and a sapphire part, correct?" Nadim questioned him once again.

Shahzad nodded again, glancing up and then down again, at his most recent observations of them, still failing to see how this connected. "Yes."

"Now give one to Tahir and one to Xavia," Nadim said, glancing back at the wall briefly, then turning expectantly to him again.

He blinked, confused once again. He didn't see why. It wasn't that he cared very much about the rings anymore, but...he would have liked to know what the man was thinking, rather than blindly answering questions and obeying orders. He supposed, though...he gave orders a lot himself, without explaining them as well as he could. Mutely, he slipped the rings off his fingers and stepped towards Tahir and Xavia, who looked just as confused as he did.

Xavia took both the rings from his palm, holding one out to Tahir who took it from where he stood beside her. A small frown arched her brows as she glanced around, trying to make sense of the situation. "Aren't you going to tell us what this is all about, Nadim?" she asked, looking at the man curiously.

Nadim shook his head determinedly. "No, not until I see whether what I think is true really is true or not. You see the words are difficult to decipher and these symbols..." he trailed off, then turned towards the wall, taking a step back towards it. He let his fingers run lightly down it, brushing away some of the sand that had gathered on it.

Shahzad noticed then that there were two indents in the wall, in the shape of two rings next to each other. He glanced abruptly back at Tahir and Xavia, at the rings in each of their hands. They looked like the right size, like they could fit, though he didn't know what for. Looking back at the wall, he saw there were symbols above and below each of the ring shapes, some lettering he couldn't read.

"Now," Nadim began, "put the rings in here, and then turn them until they're upside down."

Tahir and Xavia glanced at each other, then started forward slowly. Shahzad moved to the side to get out of their way, then watched as they both found the indents, Xavia helping to guide Tahir's fingers to feel it. Simultaneously, they pressed the rings inward, then twisted them until the jewel was facing downward to the ground, as Nadim had directed. They both took a step backward, Xavia turning to glance at Nadim again on their left.

For a moment, Nadim stood completely still, staring determinedly at the wall. Nothing seemed to happen, and the rest of them exchanged glances of confusion. Then, suddenly, there was a loud, distinct noise like a crack of thunder, and water was shooting out at them in long, wet streams. It hit Tahir and Xavia mainly, and they jumped, startled at the sudden spray. A bit splashed on him as well in cool wet drops and on Nadim, along with whoever else was closest.

They all blinked at each other in disbelief, completely dumbfounded, then Shahzad, finally getting a hold of himself—realizing what this could mean—turned to the men closest to him. "Get the water barrels, quick, while it's still running!"

He heard Nadim laugh from his other side. "Relax," the man said. "The wall is full of water. It will be easy to make the holes even bigger, and then it'll be even easier to get at."

"But, Nadim, how did—?" Xavia started to formulate a question, struggling to make sense of the situation as she stepped out of the line of water, smiling bewilderedly and pulling Tahir with her, while trying to ring the water out of her hair, brushing droplets off her face.

"Well," Nadim began, finally ready to explain, "I figured it out while I was talking to the desert people," he indicated the dark-skinned people, all watching the water thirstily. Finally a few of them came up to the falling water and brought their mouths right into the stream, swallowing as much as they could at once. Nadim smiled and went on. "I noticed that their word for sand sounded exactly the same as how I thought the word 'water' would be pronounced, from my readings. When I asked them, they confirmed it, and then I thought of the texts and realized the similarities there as well. The desert and the sea are...practically the same after all."

Shahzad frowned at him , not seeing the connection. The desert and the sea didn't seem at all alike to him. One was water, wet and dripping, and the other was dry, almost completely devoid of all moisture. They were completely different!

Nadim noticed his skepticism and went on hurriedly. "I mean, not really, but in wording...they both have currents that can stir the water or the sand, and the sand can move almost like ocean waves, and they're both made up of tiny particles—water drops or grains of sand, of course. And it occurred to me that when speaking of the rings, sand had often been repeated, but it was actually water and sand. You see, part of the rings are blue as well as the gold. It wasn't just the Sands they were involved with, it was...this water too! The gold part was rendered useless when we spilled the Sands, but the blue could still be used. I don't know why or...how the water is in this wall, but I read it on here, and...it all started to come together. All we needed was two of the Destined to have the rings, and turn them the opposite way to get the water part of them to function. It broke through the wall, and...now we all have water to drink." He stopped finally, smiling at his audience.

"Yes, we all have water to drink," Shahzad repeated quietly to himself, looking at the slowing stream. It was much weaker now, more of a drip than the shooting line, but he could hear the sound of the water inside the wall, beginning to slosh around as the wind reached it. They were saved. It would be enough water to get them all home. This meant—it meant they would get home now, alive! He would see his city again, where he'd grown up, and he—he'd see his people, and he would rule as well as he could, for his people, and for his father, who had ruled so well.

He turned to the men again, slower this time, repeating his last order. "Go get the barrels. We're going home."

He watched several of the men nod at him and start back toward where they'd left all of their provisions, pacing quickly through the sand. He turned back to Nadim finally. "Will you translate for me now?" he asked.

Nadim nodded with a slight laugh. "What did you want to say to them?" he asked, looking at the desert people, who were now glancing back and forth among them, seeming to sense that they were being discussed.

"Ask them if they want to come back with us, or stay out here. They do have a water source here now, though I don't know how long it will last. I would like to be able to use the horses for faster traveling, but if they want to keep them...I'm not about to stop them."

Nadim nodded again and turned to the desert people who looked at him expectantly. He relayed the message in the strange, quickly moving, sharp tongue that they all spoke and understood.

The people looked about among themselves, whispering and murmuring. They moved into a circle, exchanging words, some loud and some soft. For several minutes they seemed to debate the issue, then finally they turned and faced Shahzad directly. The old man was in front, and he spoke loud and clearly in a resonant tone.

Shahzad watched him, paying attention to his tone and the way he carried himself, even if he couldn't understand the words. The man was an impressive speaker, that was for sure. It was something Shahzad hoped he could learn, eventually. He was getting better, he thought, but he still wasn't that good. Maybe someday. When the man was finally done speaking, he turned toward Nadim questioningly.

Nadim stood for a moment afterward, watching the man and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. After a moment, he turned towards Shahzad, raising his eyebrows slightly. "He says...they've been wanderers for too long. They love the desert, but the desert is done providing for them. This was its...final act of kindness, for all of us, and they have to move on now. If you don't mind, they want to come back with you and see what the city is like, though they are unsure of how they will fit in, after living only with themselves for so long. And the horses will come along with you much easier if they're coming as well."

Shahzad smiled slightly, glancing at some of the horses, standing stock still under the desert people's gentle brown hands. He thought of the people living out here for so long, away from any real civilization, and he thought of them coming into the city. It would be hard for them. They didn't know the language; they didn't know...anything about the way people lived now. They were leaving the only home they had ever known, the desert. The harsh, but kind desert, their refuge for so long. It was a brave step for them, something he wasn't sure he would want to do.

He turned to look at the old man, catching his eye. There were so many years in his dark eyes, such a long time spent out here and carrying the memory of ages before, a hard life of wandering through this desert of golden sand and hot sun, their lifeblood. And now they were leaving it. He would make sure they were taken care of in the city. They deserved it, after all.

"Nadim, tell them...tell them what I told the men. We're going home now. All of us."

Nadim began to repeat the message, and Shahzad looked at the old man again, giving a slight smile. As Nadim finished speaking, the man nodded at him, dipping his head low, and Shahzad nodded back.

* * *

One more chapter left! I'm trying to finish this before November so I can do NaNoWriMo, but it's getting down to the nitty-gritty. I'm hoping to update on Friday. If I don't, I mind not update for a month. Or then again, maybe I'll just try to finish it early in November while still desperately trying to keep up on my NaNo...I don't know. It could go many ways. But you should review, because once again, I updated amazingly!


	39. Chapter 39

Shahzad woke up slowly, breathing in the smell of the horses, feeling the sun's heat on his skin. His back was hunched over his horse, and he straightened slowly, arching back and moving his neck from side to side. Finally, he looked up and started at what he saw. There, just up ahead, was the city. There were the light-colored adobe buildings lining the streets, full of people going about their morning business. And there, farthest away was the palace with its golden dome and front walls of marble, shining brilliantly in the sun. It was there; it was real, and they had almost reached it! They were almost home!

He glanced around him at his men and the desert people and all of the Thieves. Most of them were still bent over their horses, sound asleep, though a few of the desert people around him were looking with curiosity at the looming buildings in front of them, then glancing quickly at each other and murmuring remarks in their own language.

"Sit—ee?" one of them asked, turning towards him. It was Dimah, a young woman that Nadim was trying to teach how to speak in the common tongue. She seemed to be picking it up fairly quickly, though her pronunciations of the words were often forced and awkward.

He nodded with a slight smile. "Yes, this is the city. This is my home. I grew up here." He looked back at the great marble palace, standing out more than any of the other buildings, and he remembered the years of growing up there, playing in the courtyard, running through the halls, just...living, with his father always there. His father wouldn't be there anymore, but he owed it to the man to take over his rule, and rule it as well as he possibly could. His set his jaw determinedly; he wanted to be the sort of man his father would have respected, would have been proud of.

When he glanced back at Dimah, she was smiling at him, without much comprehension. He laughed then, the entire situation suddenly striking him as odd and a bit humorous, and he looked around him again. More of his men were waking up now, pointing toward the city, grinning, and practically shouting in jubilance.

"It's the city!"

"We're home!"

"We've made it. I didn't think I'd ever see my family again..."

He reined in his horse, slowing down, twisting around in his saddle to face them all. "Men—" he started, then amended, "people of Arabia, we've reached the city. We're almost home now. Let's get there quickly!" With that, he turned again, grinning himself now, and kicked his heels into the sides of his horse. It started off running, galloping through the sand, the quick clip-clop of its hooves reverberating against the ground. He heard the rest of his men following, with a pounding like a stampede of horses behind him.

He felt like he was flying then, hot air rushing through his hair and all around him, with the sleek black horse beneath him, racing across the desert. They would arrive in the city in a blazing cloud of gold, he thought with a small smile. It might be a bit shocking to the people in the city, to see so many riders pounding into their city. Hopefully, though, they would be glad to see him returning.

In short manner, they had reached the beginnings of the city, the place where the sand blew up hard against the buildings and the street ended abruptly, giving way to the miles of sand dunes spread before it. Here, they slowed down, first to a calmer trot, then into a mere walk, compacting closer together and stretching out into a long line in order to fit within the confines of the street.

Shahzad found himself at the front of the procession, something that would have frightened him in earlier days—still did frighten him a little, as he saw the people in the streets stop what they were doing and turn to stare—but he knew it was his rightful place as sultan. The people needed to see that he was alive still, and that he cared about them, not only himself.

Tahir and Xavia wound up riding next to him, Tahir holding the reins of the horse and Xavia sitting in front of him. Xavia smiled at Shahzad, and he smiled back. He was happy for them, together and in love, not jealous of Tahir. He'd never loved Xavia in that way; he'd only been...confused, about so much. Now, he was simply happy to have them both as friends, some of the best people he knew.

"Shahzad," Tahir said as they reached him, "we're here. We're home."

He smiled again. "Yes, we are," he replied. This city, these people, and this part of the world. It was...everything he loved, everything he'd grown up with and known since he was born. He felt comfortable here, even with all the people dropping what they were doing and turning to stare at him.

Although...there was something odd about the way they were staring. They were all healthy, something he was glad to see, but they looked at him with disbelief, as if they thought he was a ghost. And they were quiet, too quiet—he pulled his horse to a step and as soon as everyone behind him had also shuffled to a stop, he listened. There was barely a sound—only the wind and a few quiet whispers murmuring among the people.

He stared back at them, before realizing that he was probably only prolonging the awkwardness of the moment. He ought to say something. He pursed his lips, thinking. What could he say after leaving them for so long? He glanced nervously at Tahir and Xavia next to him. Xavia was looking around at the people, but Tahir was turned toward him, his head inclined slightly. "Shahzad," he whispered, with a small nod.

Shahzad swallowed and took a breath, preparing to speak. "Arabians," he began at last, trying to project his voice over the expanse of them. "I have returned from my journey through the desert. I..." he paused, thinking. None of these people knew anything about what had happened out there in the desert. They would never find out unless...he told them, and there was no reason for him to tell them. But...he felt like...he couldn't rule over them if they didn't know what he'd been, what he was.

"You might have noticed, at my father's funeral, two months ago now, that I was...not quite ready to rule. I went into the desert looking for power and revenge. I wanted to find the Sands of Time to use them to my advantage. I'm sure you've heard legends of them, and they're real. We found them, and," he turned to his right, towards Tahir, "this man spilled them and cured Arabia of the plague. You owe him your lives. I, on the other hand, you owe nothing to. But I owe something to you, and I want to lead you, to help you in any way I can. I saw my life in the desert for what it was, and it wasn't what it should have been. I left you as a selfish man. I return as your servant."

He looked at the people, trying to gauge their reactions. They were a bit louder now, discussing amongst themselves, but still staring at him. He swallowed. He hoped—what if they didn't trust him now, after learning that? What if they refused to listen to anything he said, tried to overthrow him? Maybe he deserved that, but...he didn't want it! He wanted to do the best for them, now.

He heard a voice in the crowd, picking out one of the voices. "I wish _he'd _say something like that. But he's never been good for us, and he never will be."

Shahzad frowned, puzzled, wondering who _he _was. He spurred his horse forward slightly, towards the man who'd spoken, a burly, middle-aged man. "Sir," Shahzad started, "who do you speak of? Who is _he?_ And why are you all so...silent?" He asked the last question in a quieter, less authoritative voice, trailing off in his confusion.

"I mean the sultan—well, begging your pardon, sir, not if you're here—that is if you can wrest it from him...anyway, I mean Khalid. He told us you were dead more than a month ago—almost two months in fact. He said one of your men came back, riding straight to the back of the palace, and said you and the rest of them had been killed by...something poisonous, I don't remember quite what it was. Since you didn't have any heirs, he was next in line for the throne, and his coronation was the day after your funeral."

"My funeral?" Shahzad repeated dazedly. They'd had his funeral? He...wasn't entirely sure what to think of that. But...somehow, he wasn't surprised. He should have known—he _did_ know—what Khalid was capable of. The man was power-hungry, and he had taken the easiest route to the power he wanted. Afzal had been right in warning him not to leave the country in the hands of that man. Now he wasn't even the sultan anymore.

"Khalid—has he been treating you well?" he asked at last, looking back at the man he'd spoken to. That was the most important thing, really. If Khalid had done nothing but sit in his palace on his throne, well...he'd have to be punished for it as was his due as a traitor, but if he'd actually done wrong to the Arabian people, that was...far worse. He would not tolerant his people suffering.

"Well, he hasn't been too bad," the man said with a shrug. "He hasn't...killed us or anything, but...he took some of our gold and jewels to be put into palace furnishings and statues. The market's suffered because of it—nobody has the money to buy anything. We trade, but we can't buy from the ships coming in, and he takes a lot of our food to put into palace storehouses. We get on, but we can't do much of anything anymore."

Shahzad nodded, frowning slightly. Well, at least it hadn't been...too bad. They weren't being tortured or...made into slaves or anything of that sort. They just...weren't doing as well as they could be. He glanced to his right again, towards Tahir. "We'll have to take him off the throne," he said in a low voice.

He saw Tahir nod, almost invisibly. "I think we can do that," he replied after a moment. "He's only one man, after all."

Shahzad glanced behind him, at the desert people and the Thieves and the Royal Guard. He...hoped they supported him. He knew some of them did, but most of them had little reason to. He hadn't been a good leader in the past, but he wanted to be one now. He hoped they would see that, that they would help him.

"Are you going to go vanquish Khalid?" a younger boy standing beside the older man posed the question, with wide eyes and an eager expression. Shahzad smiled at his enthusiasm, but noticed that the rest of the people were watching him seriously, solemn black eyes waiting for an answer. They wanted him to fight for them, and by the desert, he would.

"Yes," he said shortly. "I'm going to reclaim my throne, and I assure you, things will go back to the way they were under my father—or better if I can improve upon them at all. You'll have your gold and jewels back, and you'll have your free market." He turned around again, looking at his men, hoping they would back him. They'd followed all of his orders in trying to get out of the desert, but...that was in order to get home alive. Now they were already home. Would they follow him any farther?

"Men," he started, just loud enough for them all to hear. "I hope you'll all come with me to help me take back my throne from Khalid. I would be honored to have you all come with me. However...you were employed under my father, and I will not force you to serve me as you have served him. You've seen the way I ruled in the desert, on the journey out and on the journey in. I trust you will make your decision based on what you've seen."

He looked at the desert people then, realizing that they needed some direction. They might choose to come with him, but they might not want to, and they certainly weren't all warriors. He searched through the crowd, finding Nadim not too far behind him, in between Jalal and Dimah. "Nadim, will you tell the desert people that they may stay in the city for now, or they may come with me to the palace, though they are under no obligation to help. Accommodations will be made for them later."

Nadim nodded and relayed in the information in rapid speech. He was quickly replied to by the old man, and turned back to Shahzad. "They're coming with us. They want to be sure you regain your throne."

Shahzad nodded, finding the eyes of the old man, with his crinkled, leathery skin and dark eyes. He smiled. "Alright, then we go on to the palace." He spurred his horse forward, heard the slow clip-clop of the horses following him. He glanced behind him and saw that all of the men were following him, not a single one had disappear, or begun to travel a different way throughout the city, to their own homes. He smiled, suddenly confident. These were his men. He respected them, and...they respected him as well. It was a good feeling.

Abruptly, he stopped again, after several feet forward, recalling something he'd done in the desert. He remembered the man, the older man he'd ordered killed. He remembered the pleading look in the man's eyes, his voice saying he had a wife, he had children at home, and to please, please let him live. But he'd ordered him to be killed, and he'd been killed, a saber stabbed through him. Shahzad swallowed.

"Tahir," he said, "where did Dawud live?"

"Dawud?" Tahir asked in what sounded like confusion, but Shahzad knew Tahir remembered the man, likely knew him well. Tahir knew each of the Thieves by name and where they all lived, who their families were.

"Yes, Dawud," he repeated. "The man I killed in the desert. I want to apologize to his wife."

There was a slight pause before Tahir spoke. Shahzad watched various emotions cross his face, pain in the memory, stretching his face, tightening his lips, and the straining as he weighed things out, considering. "Shahzad, I admire your intentions, but I'm not sure that's really..."

"Tahir, please," Shahzad cut in. "I...I need to do this. She might not accept my apology, and there's no reason for her to accept it, but...I need to apologize." He was practically pleading now, but it was all true. He needed to apologize to this woman, whoever she was. He'd ordered her husband's death, as good as killed the man himself. And she likely wouldn't want to speak to him, but he couldn't rule his country with pride knowing what he'd done and never taken responsibility for.

Tahir sighed next to him, shaking his head slightly. "Alright," he replied at last, relenting. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Five streets down from the edge of the city, opposite the palace," Shahzad answered, glancing around at his surroundings. The buildings were all the light-colored tan and pinkish ones, from adobe bricks. The roofs were somewhat flat with a slight dome, and the doorways were all arched. They were simple houses, but they worked well. The ones on his right side looked better maintained than the ones on his left. The left-side ones looked...crumbling almost, not quite falling apart, but definitely cracked.

"To the left, two streets down, first house."

Shahzad swallowed, then nodded and turned his horse to his left, towards those houses. They trotted down a ways, going quickly, as he wanted to get his throne back as quickly as possible, but he knew he needed to do this first. Soon they were crossing the first street, and then the next. Finally, Shahzad dismounted from his horse, swiftly swinging his left leg over and hopping down from the stirrup.

As he walked toward the house, a woman came out with two boys, evidently noticing the commotion in the street. The boys both looked around ten years old, watching the spectacle with wide-eyes and occasionally grinning or playfully pushing each other. The woman was straight-backed and very calm, eyes scanning over Shahzad and the crowd of mounted men behind him. He noticed her eyes lingered on the Thieves, searching through them for her husband, most likely.

He met the woman halfway up to the house, swallowing as she stopped in front of him, eyes locked on him. She had one hand resting on the shoulders of each of her boys, forcing them to stand still next to her. She looked at him with a set jaw, waiting for him to speak.

He pursed his lips, then took a breath. "Madam," he began, realizing he didn't even know her name. He should have asked Tahir, perhaps, to seem more personal, but it was too late now. "Are you the wife of...Dawud?"

"I am," she replied steadily, looking him unflinchingly in the eye.

He nodded, a bit too quickly, he thought, as he tried to think of what to say next. How did you tell a woman you killed her husband? It...it wasn't something he was proud of, certainly not something he wanted her to know. But she deserved to know. "I...I want to...apologize. In the desert, I...I ordered your husband...killed. It was wrong. I made many mistakes, and I know that was one of the chief ones, taking away a man's life without reason, but I—I want to start over now. I thought I should let you—"

She had not looked away from him the entire time he was speaking, but now her eyes left him, just briefly to rest on her boys who were looking up at him in stunned silence, not entirely comprehending, but understanding that something was wrong well enough to begin to cry. Her eyes darted back up to his. "Get away from me and my boys," she spoke levelly, not rising or shouting at all, but with an underlying intensity.

Shahzad took a step back, startled. He...he hadn't wanted to upset her. And if she had gotten upset, he'd expected her to...to cry or scream at him, but instead she stood so calm, even as her eyes flashed at him, her cheeks flared red. She was angry. And she had every right to be angry, but he...he—were there no second chances? Couldn't he—couldn't he—but...no, there was no getting that man's life back. He looked at the woman again, beginning to raise his palms up as she glared at him. "I...I'm sorry," was all he could manage.

"I don't care," she said, and this time her voice broke in the middle of her words, and he saw her eyes looking glassy, filled with unshed tears. She struggled against them for a few seconds, then took a moment and had a deep breath, shutting her eyes tight against him. When she opened them again, her face was once again calm. "You might be sorry, and you might live better now, and you might rule better than anyone has. But that doesn't change the fact that..." she broke off, biting her lip hard, then went on, "I don't want to look at your face right now. Just—leave. And don't come back."

Shahzad looked at her a moment, observing her calm but angry face, masking her struggling emotions within. He realized then that there was nothing he could do. He had told her, and...that was all he could do. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the right choice or not, but he felt better letting out the truth. He turned and went back to his horse quietly, swung himself up and immediately started the horse trotting forward.

"Shahzad, are you alright?" Tahir asked, catching up to him as they turned at the end of the street, facing back towards the palace.

Shahzad glanced at the man beside him and Xavia in front of him. They both looked concerned for him, Xavia with her eyes, Tahir with the set line of his jaw, his tight lips. He smiled slightly at them. They were his friends. He'd betrayed them, and they'd forgiven them. Now he realized suddenly just how much that meant, appreciated anew the fact that they had been able to forgive them at all.

"Yes," he said. "I'm alright. I just...want to get to the palace now and get Khalid out of my throne." He turned, glancing behind him again to find Mahmud in the crowd. He was riding close to the front, speaking to a few of his men. "Captain Mahmud," Shahzad called to him, "do you know if Khalid has many men with him? Will it be difficult to get to him?"

The captain shook his head. "He doesn't have many, sir. I don't think he thought we'd be back, so he sent most everyone who would oppose him away. He has a few men to guard him—I don't know where their loyalties lie—but not enough to cause much trouble."

"Good," Shahzad replied steadily, "then we'll enter through the front, go straight through, and meet him in the throne room." With that, he spurred his pace, making his horse take a faster gait until the rhythmic beat of its hooves blurred into an almost hum beneath him, a prolonged reverberation. They went down the long streets, past people, a few turning in surprise, most already knowing from neighbors who'd seen him come in. Some of them cheered him on, and he smiled at them and went on.

Within a few minutes, they reached the palace gates. They were wide open, carelessly open, Shahzad thought. Khalid wouldn't expect any sort of uprising from the people he lorded over. He was the sultan. No one could hurt the sultan, after all. Except, perhaps, another sultan.

He got off his horse slowly and walked inside the gate, standing in the long drive leading up to the steps. He glanced behind him and saw his men following him, somewhat hesitantly. The Thieves were the closest to him, the Royal Guard behind them, and the desert people following with curiosity. All who carried sabers had their hands resting on the hilts.

"Let's go," he said simply and started walking. He took long, quick strides down the drive, keeping his eyes firmly set on the marble steps ahead of them. When he reached them, he kept the same easy pace, but made his strides long again, climbing up several stairs at once. Then there were the thick bronze doors with the huge, curved handles. He gripped one, pulled with all his might, and flung it open. He walked inside.

He knew the palace so well. The big windows letting in the sunlight, the rich crimson and gold furnishings, the statues of bronze and gold, the pools of water to cool the air—this was his home, and he felt an immediate sense of ease at being in it again. He felt safe and confident and...in his place in the world. This was where he belonged.

Abruptly, he started for the throne room, taking the quickest path he knew. Through the entry hall, taking two rights, past the dining hall and the entertaining hall, then one left, down the wide corridor, and there was the doorway, tall and arched with the doors carved into pictures of heroes and glory. He pulled on the handle, flinging this door open as well and walked through.

A moment after he was inside, he was grabbed from his left side and trapped in a headlock. The arms around his neck were tight and choking. He felt his throat constrict as he began to gag, the strong arms tightening more and more. His head felt light and airy, and all he could do was stare, wondering just what had happened. There was fighting, blades of sabers ringing as they smacked against each other. Khalid did have men, he could see that, and he could see his own men fighting. It looked like more than they'd accounted for, but he still thought he had more men, if he could just stop choking...

Then suddenly, the arms were thrown off of him, and he turned to see Tahir and the man who'd grabbed him fighting with on the floor with their bare fists. Quickly, he bent down beside them, first punching the man he didn't know hard in the face and watching him fall back to the ground, then grabbing Tahir's arm and pulling him to his feet. "Thank you," he said, when they were both standing again.

"And thank you," Tahir replied with a nod. "They seem to be rather vicious fighters."

"Yes, they do," Shahzad affirmed, glancing around him to take things in from a better scope. Khalid's men, who appeared to be some small faction of the Royal Guard were fighting brutally with the Thieves, Royal Guard, and desert people alike. They were doing well, but not _so_ well. There seemed to be fifty of them at most, and he had more than a hundred men altogether. They weren't even all through the door yet. They had been taken by surprise, but they were gaining the upper hand again.

Tahir was suddenly pulled into fighting another man, blocking the swift slice of a saber and counterattacking with a move of his own. Shahzad scooted out of the way, and looked around a bit more. He didn't see anyone for himself to fight. They were all engaged with his men, and several of his men were grouped at the door, trying to push themselves in.

He turned his gaze to the far side of the room, past the long red and gold carpet, up the dais. There was the throne, large and straight-backed, with its golden hues and crimson designs engraved into it. And there, sitting in it, was Khalid, tall and erect, watching the situation with that expression he always bore, what could best be described as a haughty sneer.

Shahzad swallowed then, as he took a step towards the man and another step and another. This was his battle to fight, for his father, for his throne, for the way he'd been betrayed and poisoned against his friends. He walked the entire way, leisurely down the carpeted walkway, unstopped by any men. He walked until the edge of the dais, then stood silently, staring at the man in his throne.

Khalid smirked, as he always did, looking amused. In his eyes, though, Shahzad noticed was a dimness, not as bright as they should have been; they held a sense of failure. He glanced backward at the men still fighting. Only a few of Khalid's remained standing. The man might have been good at appearing calm, but hestill knew he was losing. It would be over for him in moments.

"Shahzad," Khalid spoke at length with his smooth, syrupy voice. "I see you've returned from your journey. And tell me, did you find the Sands of Time and bring them back with you?"

Shahzad blinked, then glared. That the man could even discuss this, when he knew as well as all of them that he'd stolen the throne! "I found them, but I didn't bring them back. They were spilled out for Arabia, as they ought to have been."

Khalid gave another smooth smile, stretching slowly across his thin lips and gave a slight nod. "Yes, I did notice that the plague suddenly disappeared a while back. It caused quite an uproar." He said nothing more, only watched Shahzad, amusedly, with eyes like a snake.

"You stole my throne while I was away, Khalid. And I'm going to take it back now." He said this with as much authority and determination as he could muster, straightening his back as he stood, pulling himself to his full height with his head lifted high. Khalid had seen him as a weak man, easy to manipulate, but he would not be weak anymore. He would take his country back for his people.

"Stole your throne?" Khalid replied with a laugh and a look of mock surprise. "Shahzad, I assure you, I would never dream of such a thing. It's only...you were gone so long, and with the limited supplies you took with you...well, I had to assume the worst, and someone had to take over ruling."

Shahzad shook his head impatiently. He wouldn't listen to lies again. He'd heard from his people what had happened, and he'd trust them over Khalid any day. "You told the people I was dead almost two months ago. I've been gone for barely two months. I wouldn't have died that soon, Khalid, and certainly not by the specifics you told them."

At this, all mock pleasantries dropped from the man's face. Khalid looked him over seriously, with cold, cruel eyes and a malice in his jeering expression. "Well, that's that, isn't it?" he said in a low voice. "But Shahzad, I want you to think for a moment. Do you really think you can rule alone? You don't have the Sands of Time to help you; without me you won't have anyone. It will you be just you, frightened out of your wits. Nobody will respect you on your own. You haven't studied under your father how to rule. You couldn't even go into the desert and return with what you went out for. You need someone to help you."

Shahzad stared at the man for a moment, and he suddenly felt hot rage flaring up within in for this man. Khalid had been the source of so many of his troubles. If it wasn't for Khalid, he never would have come up with that idea of going out into the desert, killing the Thieves when they didn't take him where he wanted to go. This was the man who had poisoned him against everyone who cared for him. He was a traitor to the throne and a traitor to Arabia.

As fast as he could, he pulled his saber from its sheath and leaped onto the dais, swinging at Khalid with a ferocity. The man, weaponless, darted out of the way. He jumped up from his seat on the throne and moved to the left, trying to get away from the wildly attacking blade. Shahzad swung again, stabbing out as he lunged at the man.

In Khalid's attempts to move, this time he tripped over himself, falling down each of the carpeted stairs as he tumbled down the dais. Shahzad reached him quickly, pressing the tip of his saber against the man's throat before he could manage to get up. He prepared himself to stab through—and do it gladly! This was the man who had stolen his throne and treated his people poorly. This was the man who had killed his father with no mercy at all. This was the man who had betrayed him, when he'd trusted the man, for nothing more than power.

Shahzad stopped then, for the first time taking in the man's eyes, watching him with a sense of dread and inevitability. His hand was shaking, and the saber wavered in the air, visibly moving back and forth. Suddenly, he threw it down to the floor beside him. He couldn't kill this man in front of him, on the ground, defenseless. He—he'd done almost all of the same things Khalid had done. He'd killed a man, mercilessly. He'd betrayed his friends when they'd trusted him. He hadn't stolen anyone's throne, but that didn't matter, he—they were too much the same. The only difference was...he would never let himself become that way again.

He turned to the people crowded in the throne room. It was silent now, as they all watched him, waiting for his next move. "Men," he began in a trembling voice, "take Khalid and all of his men to the dungeons. I...cannot be the one to kill him, or any of them, though they may be sentenced death—after a trial. Take them and unlock the rest of the Forty Thieves that remain there. And...Khalid," he turned then, to face the man on the ground, recalling that he'd left Afazal here, Afzal, the friend always loyal to his father, loyal to Arabia. The man had been here when Shahzad had left, but he had not seen him yet.

He was about to speak, but Khalid wasn't there—he was scrambling on the ground, reaching for the saber Shahzad had dropped. Before Shahzad could react, the man had it held tightly in his hand, and he got to his feet, lunging forward and stabbing straight for Shahzad's chest.

He couldn't think. He could only see the steel blade coming at him, straight for him, and he shut his eyes tightly. He didn't want to see it stab him. He couldn't watch; he could only...listen to the shouting and the sound of the saber cutting through the air. And maybe...he deserved this. He knew that he did, and he couldn't move.

But then, it didn't come. There was no stabbing, no rush of air passing out of him, no death clouding his mind. He was alive, and the saber was not coming anymore.

He heard Xavia call out, "Afzal!" in an excited tone and the sound of her footsteps running to him.

He opened his eyes to see the old man had knocked the saber from Khalid's hand and stood now, struggling to restrain him. A few of the men—both Thieves and Royal Guard—came forward quickly, to help the older man, taking Khalid more firmly in hand. "We'll take him to the dungeons now," one of the men said, nodding to Shahzad.

Shahzad nodded back at them, and they began to pull the man away, even as he spat at them, muttering curses. Shahzad watched them go, the rest of the men taking the disarmed men who had served under Khalid with them. He turned back to Afzal then, as Xavia crowded around the man, pulling Tahir along with her. He observed the man, with his bright colored clothing, leathery skin, and slow, kind smile. This man had saved his life. And he was the man that he should have been listening to all along, instead of Khalid.

"Afzal, we spilled the Sands of Time!" Xavia was exclaiming as she dropped Tahir's hand to embrace the man.

Afzal patted her back, smiling widely. "Yes, I know. I'm very proud of you. All of you," he said, as she pulled away. He looked at her for a moment, then at Tahir, and finally at Shahzad, his eyes lingering on him the longest. Shahzad looked down, feeling like—it was as if the man knew...everything. What he'd become out in the desert, all that he'd done. It was unnerving.

"But what have you been doing while we were away, Afzal?" Xavia asked eagerly, her green eyes fixated upon the grandfatherly man.

Afzal turned his eyes back to, smiling again. "I told Khalid that I was returning to my home, but in secret I remained here, watching him and awaiting your return." He turned to Shahzad again. "I knew he lied about your death, and I wanted to be sure he did not treat Arabia badly. When you approached, he called his men all in here, to fight you when you came. I stayed behind the curtains on the dais, waiting. I knew Khalid would jump when you least expected it."

Shahzad nodded, swallowing. "Thank you," he said gratefully, knowing full well he owed this man his life. He could have been killed twice now, by Tahir in the desert, by Khalid here. Both times, he would have deserved it, but both times he had received mercy. It was something he could scarcely comprehend. Why him—why was he still living, when others more deserving had died?

Afzal was watching him still, and when Shahzad turned his eyes back to the man, he nodded slightly. Then he turned towards the dais, raising his hand out towards the large, engraved throne sitting upon it. "The throne is yours now, Shahzad," he said. "You are our sultan." He gave a low bow then, bending at the waist and crossing one arm over his chest.

Shahzad watched him, until he straightened himself again, thinking how...it wasn't right. "I—I don't think I deserve it," he said honestly, his voice close to stuttering. "I know I don't deserve it." He swallowed again, wondering if those words would lose him his throne. He did want to rule, but...it wouldn't bother him to step down—because he knew he ought to step down. He didn't deserve his country, not truly.

"That," Afzal began with a slight nod, "is the first step towards deserving it, my boy. Now take your throne."

Shahzad bit his lip, wondering how and why and...he just didn't understand any of it. But he looked at the throne, sitting there upon the dais, and slowly he began to walk towards it, taking long, steady steps. He reached the top step of the dais and looked at the chair, where he'd seen his father sit so many times. Taking a slow, shaky breath, he turned and sat upon it, knowing full well how little he deserved it, but how it had been bestowed upon him, by some grace and mercy he couldn't understand.

He looked back down at his people, scattered all throughout the room, and they—all of them together—bowed down on one knee, acknowledging him as sultan. He felt his throat tighten as a tear dripped down his cheek. "Thank you," he whispered to grace.

* * *

The scales of the fish sparkled orange and gold in the sunlight. She watched them dart through the cool water, the surface of the pool glimmering as it reflected the sun. Occasionally, she dipped her hands in the water, felt the wetness on her fingertips, watched the surprised reaction from the fish. She liked gold fish, she decided, very much.

Then she looked back up at Tahir, who was still staring at her with intensely blue eyes, staring at her with an odd sort of determination that she found amusing. She wondered how much longer she was going to sit here beside the pool, waiting for him to speak. He'd asked her to go walk with him through the courtyard, privately, and she had agreed, but he'd said very little this entire time.

He ran his hand through his thick black hair, for perhaps the hundredth time in the past couple of minutes, and then took a deep breath. "Xavia," he began at last, speaking her name in a low voice, with the utmost sincerity.

"Yes, Tahir?" she asked brightly, straightening her back and looking up at him eagerly. Perhaps now he would finally ask her what she'd been waiting to hear him ask. She knew he was going to ask her sometime; she was only wondering when.

"I love you," he said abruptly, staring at her with concentration.

"I know," she replied simply, smiling at him again. "I love you, too."

He did not look entirely heartened by this, but instead ran his hand through his hair yet again and seemed to twist his mouth into an odd shape. He was awkwardly trying to look somewhere besides her, but always his eyes returned to her own.

Each time, she smiled brilliantly at him, begging him to go on, but he wouldn't. Finally, she sighed, as she felt sweat beginning to form on her forehead. The temperature today was very warm. "Tahir, if you're not going to ask me anything else, I'm going to return inside. It's getting hot out here in the sun, and I don't want to spend all day waiting."

He looked even more discomfited at this, but finally with a sudden burst confidence, he straightened to his full height and walked determinedly closer to her, until he was a mere two paces away. He took one more step, grabbed her hand fiercely in his own, and bent down on one knee in front of her.

She raised her eyebrows at him, flashing a smile and tilting her head slightly, willing him to go on.

"Xavia," he said again, and before she could ask, "Yes?" again, he spoke more with energy and strength. "I'm in love with you, and...in the desert, I realized that you mean everything to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me, be with me forever?"

She smiled then, even wider than before, and she felt _happy_. Happier than she'd ever felt, in her whole life, and she loved Tahir so, _so_ much. "Yes," she said, pursing her lips together as they involuntarily curved upward. "Yes."

He stood up then, pressing forward on one foot and grabbing her around the waist. He pulled her to her feet and then swung her around in circles, her feet flying out behind her. Laughing, she slipped her arms around her neck and kissed him on the lips, closing her eyes, and the entire sensation was so, so sweet, and she loved him, and she was getting dizzy, but she didn't care, because she was going to marry Tahir, and she'd never been happier.

Finally, they stopped spinning and stopped kissing, and stood a short distance from each other, just smiling. Then a loud cheer went up from behind them, and they turned to see Shahzad, Nadim, Jalal—most of the Thieves in general—emerging from the courtyard entrance along with Afzal. They were all laughing and smiling, raising their eyebrows at each other as they walked toward them both.

"So you finally asked the question!" Nadim exclaimed, as the men all approached them. "We've been watching you two for some time now, and we were wondering when it was ever going to happen."

"Well, I...had to...work up to that point," Tahir replied, stumbling for an explanation. The rest of the men just laughed.

"Did you get tired of sitting there, Xavia?" Nadim asked, turning to her now.

She laughed, glancing at Tahir next to her, who had turned to look her in the eye. She smiled at him and grabbed his hand beside hers, squeezing it tightly. She felt him squeeze it back gently, and she looked back at Nadim. "A little," she replied, "but it was worth it." She looked back at Tahir, feeling warm all over, like her heart could burst open from happiness.

"So when's the wedding?" Jalal asked, looking quizzically at both of them, raising one eyebrow.

Xavia turned to Tahir, shrugging slightly. "Well," she began, "I don't know. It'll take some planning. I'll have to get a dress, you know, and the ceremony has to be just right..." She laughed when she saw the men beginning to roll their eyes at her. "Well, it's my wedding, and I'm going to have it just the way I want to have it!"

The men laughed again, and Shahzad came forward to Tahir then, looking at him seriously. "Tahir, I had something to ask you myself," he began, taking another step forward through Jalal and Nadim. "I was wondering if you would be my vizier. I need a new one, since Khalid...can't exactly do the job anymore."

She glanced up at Tahir, seeing him considering, differing thoughts flickering across his face, smiling slightly towards his friend. "I would love to," he said, "though I'll have to speak to my fiancée." He said the word with a twitch in the corner of his mouth and turned towards her. "Xavia, where do you want to live? I'll go wherever you want. Here, or your own home."

She smiled a little, pursing her lips, thinking. She...missed her own country. She missed her father and their palace and the land around their palace and weather there. But on the other hand, she knew if she went there, she'd miss Arabia even more. This was where she'd made her best friends, where she'd fallen in love, where she'd...grown up, more than she ever had at home. This was where she'd realized what love really meant, what sacrifice meant, and...she loved Arabia. She loved the hot sun and the sand dunes stretching to the horizon.

"I want to live here," she said, looking back at Tahir, tightening her hold on his hand. "I want to visit home first, though. I think...I want to get married there, with my father at the ceremony and my sisters, and then come back here to live."

"Are you sure?" Tahir asked, looking at her earnestly. "I want you to be happy."

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, I'm sure. I will be happy. I'll be with you," she said the last with another bright, teasing smile at him, and she heard some of the men snickering, but she didn't care. She loved him.

He nodded at her. "Alright, that sounds good to me. I would be honored to be your vizier, Shahzad," he said, turning back to the man in front of him, extending his hand out.

The man took it and shook it firmly, with a smile and a nod in her direction. "Good," he said. "And thank you, Tahir. For everything."

"You're welcome," Tahir replied.

Xavia looked between the two men, seeing their ease with each other. She was happy for them, for both of them. They'd patched things up, and...they all got along so well now. Everything had worked out, for all of them. The plague was cured. She'd had an adventure, though it had certainly been much different from what she'd imagined. It was much harder, but...she didn't regret it. The journey had changed them all, but in good ways.

"Well, let's go inside," Afzal suggested, glancing at all of them. "It's quite hot out here, if I do say so myself. Perhaps we could have some refreshments," he said, glancing at Shahzad questioningly.

Shahzad nodded. "Yes, let's. A celebration of your engagement," he said, nodding at Xavia, smiling. "And...a celebration that we're all here together, and we're...alright."

There was a murmur of approval from the rest of the men, and they began to head back to the courtyard entrance, slowly, shuffling together. Xavia and Tahir brought up the rear, along with Shahzad next to them. Three friends, Xavia thought, similar to how they had been, she supposed, with Tahir and Shahzad and Faiza together. She looked at Shahzad, and his eyes looked slightly far away. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

It was a new start, though, for Shahzad. He'd lost a lot, but he'd gained things too, in their journey. They'd all gained things. Mostly, they had each other now, closer than ever before. She looked up at Tahir, at his blue eyes and determined jaw, and she smiled. She squeezed his hand tighter and felt the response from his own hand as he glanced down at her. She was at home here, she realized, more than she could ever be anywhere else. They all were.

* * *

It is finished! A day later than I wanted, but at least now it's done without waiting long, and I should still have time to get enough done on my NaNo. I'm a bit sad it's over though...I really loved this story, and I hope you did, too.

I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed it. I probably never would have finished it without you. I especially want to thank those of you on the Christian Writer's Forum who encouraged me and gave me virtual food when I lost the climax chapter...I think Billi and EVA would be the main two actually reading this, and I also want to thank ZKS for being an awesome reviewer and friend. And finally I would like to thank my sister for all the story therapy you gave me. :D

In time, I will probably be editing this story, as it needs some major revisions in the beginning, and I'd like to add in more accurate Arabian culture to it. I would like to publish it in time, too...I'm not sure if that's even possible, but if it ever disappears from the site, look for it in print! And finally, I'd like to invite you all to read my next major fic I'm undertaking...I'm doing it for my NaNoWriMo, and I'll begin posting it here in December. It is called Paper Faces. The summary is on my profile (although...it's not a very good summary), and I'm really excited about it! And once again, leave a final review! :D


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